


it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aromantic Character, Attempt at Humor, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fire, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Holidays, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A countdown until Christmas, with multiple pairings and a holiday/winter-themed oneshot for each day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you're a mean one, mr. grinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the person in the flat next door who VERY LOUDLY blasts bad holiday music starting in NOVEMBER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyo!! I'm super pumped for christmas this year so i thought starting today i'd write something each day until the 25th. I hope you enjoy these lil oneshots -- all prompts and aus come from tumblr!
> 
> Tags will be updated as chapters are added

The first time it happens, Kageyama is stumbling into his apartment late in the evening after an exhausting midterm.

He only has a few hours before he has to get up to cram for his next exam, so when he reaches his bedroom, he flops down on his bed with a tired groan and burrows into his blankets, not even bothering to kick his shoes off. It’s quiet and peaceful, the room dark and his covers cozy, and Kageyama lets out a contented sigh, making himself comfortable and letting his eyes slip shut.

It feels like only seconds later when a loud thump startles him awake, and Kageyama jumps awake, hair mussed in tufts of disarray and eyes bleary as he tries to orientate himself. What in the world…?

Then there is the muffled, but _very loud_ and distinct sound of music thumping through the wall behind him, an orchestra playing a few raucous beats before…

_IT’S THE MOST, WONDERFUL TIME, OF THE YEAR! WITH THE KIDS JINGLE BELLING–_

Oh no. Oh _hell_ no.

It’s fucking _November_.

Rubbing his eyes, Kageyama spares a glance towards his bedside clock, glaring a bright red ‘11:14’ towards him. Next door, the music blares on noisily, and what’s more, there seems to be an equally loud, but terrifyingly off-key and high-pitched voice mixing in with the singer’s own much better– if still irritating– tones.

Kageyama’s only gotten _seventeen_ minutes of blissful sleep before some _dumbass_ next door thought it would be a good idea to blast holiday music. He needs to wake up in less than five hours to study, but if this goes on, he’s won’t be getting any rest at this rate.

He tries thumping his fist against the wall a few times in protest, but the music is too loud for him to be heard, the voice blithely warbling on false tunes.

Kageyama groans, and folds his pillow over his ears, trying to drown out the sound as he falls into a fitful slumber.

* * *

The second time it happens, Kageyama is stressed out of his mind, with the hints of a migraine coming on.

His alarm hadn’t woken him up this morning, and he’d rushed, stubbing his toe against the doorframe. When he’d reached campus with a few minutes to spare, he’d ran to the coffee shop, only to have his drink spill all over his shirt when a blonde asshole with glasses had bumped into him on his way out. Kageyama’d been stuck with a damp and strong-smelling shirt sticking to his skin for three hours straight, sitting miserable in the back of his class.

Then, as if to make matters worse, they’d gotten the outline for the assignment they were supposed to receive two days ago, without the professor pushing the due date forward for his mistake. Kageyama had another midterm to study for on that same day, so he was most likely going to have to pull an all-nighter if he wanted to pass both classes.

What’s more, the prof had held the class up by ten minutes, and Kageyama had volleyball practice and had realised he’d forgotten his equipment back home. He’d rushed back to his apartment after class, changing clothes and getting ready.

He’s about to head out when his phone buzzes twice, and Kageyama slips it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen.

_Iwaizumi-senpai [9:47]: Practice is cancelled for today, Lev’s gotten tangled in and broken the nets again._

_Tanaka-san [9:48]: HEY KAGEYAMA HELP A BRO OUT kiyoko san is super sick so im gonna take care of her today bc im a GREAT BOYFRIEND but I have a shift at work in 10min and noyas not answering my texts UR MY ONLY HPOE KAGEAYMA_

Kageyama wants to scream.

He groans instead, one hand ruffling his hair and the other tapping out answers on his phone as he heads back to his room to change once more, when—

_JUST HEAR THOSE SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING, RING TING TINGLING TOO—_

Kageyama jumps, and nearly drops his phone, fingers fumbling to grasp at it before he slaps it midair and send it flying to the ground in his surprise.

Next door, the music blares on louder.

Kageyama scrambles for his phone, and lets out a sigh of relief upon finding that there are—miraculously—no scratches or cracks on the screen before shooting a murderous glare towards his wall. What kind of _dumbass—_

_“Come oon, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with youuuu!”_

Kageyama’s headache comes on full force, now, with his neighbour’s out-of-tune voice and terrible, heavily accented English. He groans, pressing his fingertips against his temples in the hopes of assuaging it, to no avail.

He doesn’t have the time to go yell at his neighbour, so Kageyama instead quickly writes a furious message on a post-it note before loudly slamming it over the idiot’s front door on his way out to work.

‘STOP BLASTING SHITTY CHRISTMAS MUSIC DUMBASS IT’S NOVEMBER’

When he comes back a few hours later, tired and irritated out of his mind, it’s to find a poorly written note similar to his own attached to his front door.

‘DON’T BE A GRINCH ASSHOLE’

Kageyama angrily rips the note off his door and throws it in the trash.

This means _war_.

* * *

 The third time it happens, Kageyama is prepared.

Yachi, who’d come over to help him study and is sitting on his couch’s armchair, leaps a mile high and trips backwards into the cushions in fright when the music starts blasting through the walls all of a sudden.

_HAVE A HOLLY, JOLLY, CHRISTMAS—_

Kageyama, on the other hand, calmly walks over to his own radio, perusing over a few of his albums. Yachi, sitting back up, peers up from behind the couch towards him.

“W-what the heck! What was that?”

She blanches when she spots the terrifying semblance of a smile her friend is sporting, letting out a small ‘eep’ and ducking back behind the sofa. Kageyama doesn’t notice, grinning as he puts in a disc and hovers his finger over the ‘play’ button.

“Yachi. Cover your ears.”

Said girl is too flabbergasted to do anything but, silently obeying as the horrendous Christmas music plays on the other side of the apartment. Kageyama pushes the button.

_ONE BABY TO ANOTHER SAYS, I’M LUCKY TO HAVE MET YOU—_

“KAGEYAMA!” Yachi screeches, wincing at the sudden onslaught of music and clamping her hands harder over her ears. “WHAT ARE YOU _DOING_?!”

On the other side, whoever’s been singing suddenly stops at the clash of noise from Kageyama’s music, and pauses their song. Kageyama crosses his arms, and feels his grin stretch wider.

Then the song comes back full-force, and impossibly louder than last time.

Kageyama’s grin falls. Yachi moans in frustration, their homework lying on the ground by her side and all but forgotten.

Kageyama scowls, then.

Two can play this game.

“Kageyama, _NO_ —”

Kageyama ups the volume on his own radio.

His neighbour retaliates.

The songs are clashing in a horrendous cacophony of sounds and rhythms, jolly tunes mixing in with the harsher notes of rock, and Kageyama can feel the pulse of music thrum through the floor, the walls, into his limbs and bursting his eardrums, but he _refuses_ to back down, and only increases the volume again.

He jumps when there’s a roaring series of blows hammering against his front door, and only then does Kageyama realise what’s going on, flinching and swiftly bringing a hand to one ear when he notices _how_ loud he’s been playing his music. Yachi is sitting on the floor with two cushions pressed against the sides of her head and looks to be in agony.

“KAGEYAMA-SAN!”

And oh, _shit_ , Kageyama knows that voice.

When he opens the door, he’s met with the furious glare of his landlord, looking livid with his jaw clenched and his arms crossed, muscles tensing as he looms forward, fuming. Next to him, there’s a smaller man with bright red hair sticking up in wispy tufts, looking pale with fear with a haunted look in his eyes. He’s guessing that’s his annoying neighbour.

“Kageyama-san,” and Sawamura’s voice is pleasant enough, but there’s a dark tinge to it, lurking at the back and ready to snap, “Would you mind explaining to me why I’ve suddenly gotten _twelve_ complaints about abnormally loud noises in the past _two minutes_?”

Kageyama gulps.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Sawamura continues when he gets no answer, unfazed, “because I asked Hinata-san here the same thing but he can’t seem to find a good reason for it either. I was hoping we’d be able to resolve this, because _if this happens again_ ,” and this time, the coil snaps and Sawamura’s glare darkens even further, his voice boiling with ire, “I see the only solution to fix it as _kicking the both of you out immediately_.”

He smiles.

“Are we clear?”

Kageyama can only nod weakly.

“Good. Have a nice evening,” and Sawamura walks off leisurely down the hallway, leaving Kageyama and his neighbour catching their breath.

He looks like he’s about to puke.

“O-oh my god,” he wheezes, leaning against the wall, “ _s-scary_.”

Kageyama rounds in on him, fire in his eyes.

“This is your fault, dumbass!” and his neighbour—Hinata-san—squawks in indignation.

“I’m allowed to enjoy the music I want!”

“Not when it’s too loud and fucking shitty!”

“It’s not shitty, you just have no Christmas spirit, you Grinch!”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Guys,” Yachi moans from inside Kageyama’s apartment, and the two boys twist their head to find her looking up at them tiredly from her spot in the living room, “if you keep yelling you’re going to get another noise complaint.”

That shuts them up both quickly, and they both glare at each other one last time before Hinata-san turns around without a word and goes into his own flat, slamming the door shut behind him.

Stupid, annoying, _dumbass—_

* * *

 It happens a fourth time.

Then a fifth,

And a sixth,

And a seventh, eighth, ninth—

It’s not as loud as before, but still noisy enough that it travels into Kageyama’s apartment without his consent, and he has to thump his fist against the wall to make his neighbour shut up. If that doesn’t work, he resorts to pasting more terribly passive-aggressive notes on Hinata’s front door.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. More often than not they rile each other up whenever they see each other, and sometimes Kageyama will blast some of his own music on his side and be on the receiving end of equally dumb post-it notes.

And there are times when Hinata’s replies take Kageyama completely by surprise.

For example, when he’d once passed him by in the hallway after a busy day, Hinata with his arms full of laundry and Kageyama’s with a workload of study material and dark bags under his eyes. Instead of the usual cheerful and boisterous Christmas music to greet him once Kageyama had slumped over his desk to pore over his class notes, the soft tunes of a slower holiday song had drifted into his room, helping him relax and let out a breath of relief.

And when Kageyama had woken up a few days later with his skin feeling hot and cold all at once and his eyes dry and rimmed red, throat scratchy and coughing up phlegm loud enough to alert the entire complex, he’d gotten a knock at the door to find a steaming hot cup of chocolate and some cough mints at his feet, a small ‘Get better soon Mr. Grinch!!’ attached to it.

Kageyama’s the most surprised when he finds the next post-it he gets from Hinata the following week is a phone number.

He’s introduced to Hinata’s apparent and ridiculous tendency to use a flurry of emojis in every text he sends. He catches himself snorting in amusement a lot more nowadays, whenever he checks his phone.

Their silent communication continues this way. Kageyama finds he doesn’t mind the annoying holiday music as much as he used to.

That ends when he receives a message one morning, as he’s scratching his belly and brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, still half-asleep.

 _Dumbass [8:21]: wanna grab some coffee?? (*´_ _ڡ`_ _●) i ran out at home and i rlly wanna try the xmas ones that just came out at the shop on campus (~‾_ _▿_ _‾)~_

They start going out together a lot more after that, arguing along the way and fighting over popcorn as they go see silly movies and race each other at the park. When Kageyama tells Hinata he plays volleyball he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone light up as much as the boy does then, beaming brightly and grabbing for his wrist as he steers them towards the university’s gymnasium for some tosses.

Kageyama now finds, when they bid each other goodbye and go into their apartments and Kageyama is about to fall asleep beneath his sheets, his mind is filled with sunny smiles and bright toffee-brown eyes and vivid red hair. For some reason or another, his chest fills with warmth at the image and his heart beats against his ribcage as loud as the music playing in Hinata’s flat.

Kageyama for the life of him cannot figure out why.

* * *

 The nineteenth time it happens, Kageyama is not in his apartment.

He’s settled against the plush of an unfamiliar couch, cozy and drowsy as he feels the rhythmic breaths of Hinata pressed against his side flutter the hairs at the base of his neck, the redhead’s face nuzzling in the crook of his neck as he dozes peacefully. Kageyama feels the warmth from his stomach against his side despite the woolly sweaters they’re both wearing, rising and falling with each light snore Hinata gives out.

The room is dark, only dimly lit by the scented candles on the coffee table and the dim glow of the TV, video game controllers left on the floor in favour of snuggling (and Kageyama will insist that the game had ended with 51 wins and 50 losses in _his_ favour and not the way around). The soft, dulcet tones of an old holiday song croon out further away from Hinata’s radio, English words meaningless to Kageyama’s ear, but voice soft and comforting.

Outside, the dark sky is speckled with the first snowflakes of the season, blowing gently downwards with the wind. It’s late, but neither Kageyama nor Hinata have exams in the morning. They have all the time in the world, Kageyama thinks as he remembers the flustered way Hinata had told him those three little words outside in the hallway just a few hours ago, and the way his own cheeks had flushed when he'd said those words back.

Kageyama wraps an arm around Hinata, lets his eyes slip shut, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea what kageyama’s taste in music should be but for the sake of this fic I picked nirvana bc it served its purpose as loud music lol
> 
> Also why is Hinata not on the vb team in this au?? Who knows not I


	2. out in the cold again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot my toboggan in the park only to come back and find you using it

It’s snowing again.

It’s also getting darker, the screen of his phone telling Kuroo it’s nearly five in the afternoon when he rounds the corner and steps in the park, going towards the small figure hunched over their gaming console at the foot of the hill. He’d recognize those red, puffy earmuffs anywhere.

“Kenma!” he groans when he reaches him, pulling his scarf down so his voice isn’t so muffled and shoving his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing? Everyone’s gone for hot chocolate.” He pauses. “Is that my toboggan?” He’d been wondering where it had gone when the rest of Nekoma had walked off with theirs for drinks and warmth after a hearty day of sledding. Guess that solved that mystery.

Kenma doesn’t move an inch from his spot, knees propped up against his chest and boots squeaking against the bottom of the sled while his eyes steadily gazing towards his screen as he expertly smashes buttons. A lock of hair falls forward, covering his face, and Kuroo looks at the roots, thinking Kenma will have to get them redone soon.

“The ground is too cold,” Kenma starts, puffs of breath whooshing softly out into the cold air. “And there are no benches around, so I thought I’d use this instead, since you left it lying around here.”

He shuffles around, and the sled squeaks once more beneath him. Kuroo sighs, and grins down fondly.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to use a toboggan, Kenma,” he teases. “How about I show you how it’s done? We can fit the both of us in there.”

Kenma pauses his game and shoots him an unamused look, but Kuroo’s been the target of those one too many times for it to faze him, and only grins wider.

“Come on!” he urges, picking up the string attached at the front of the sled all the while. “It’ll be fun, and besides, you’ve only gone up the hill once with us today.”

“That’s because the one time I accepted Lev sent us both flying into a tree,” Kenma mutters, his voice lilting in irritation at the memory.

“That wouldn’t’ve happened if you’d allowed him to steer.”

“Steering takes too much effort. Stop it,” Kenma adds when Kuroo starts tugging on the cord, shaking the sled and Kenma with it. “I need to finish this level.”

“Fine then, I’ll steer,” Kuroo answers. “How does that sound?”

Kenma replies by sliding backwards into the sled, lying on his back and eyes fixed on the game he holds up over his face. Kuroo takes it as a yes, and starts moving forward.

It’s quiet around them, save for the soft crunch of snow against Kuroo’s boots as he walks up the hill and Kenma’s rhythmic tapping against his console. The sky above them has melted from daylight grey to evening blue, and the lampposts by the sidewalks further down the park have turned on, casting a warm yellow glow over the sparkling white snowbanks. Kuroo looks behind him, seeing the smooth little trail the toboggan leaves in the snow as he pulls Kenma up.

“Doin’ all right?” he asks, and receives a small hum as an answer. “Good,” he grins, halting and making the sled lurch a little. “Because we’re at the top.”

Kenma blinks, and sits up, putting away his game in his coat pocket. From the top, the hill looks a little steeper than it actually is, but Kuroo knows it’s fine. Neither of them are afraid of heights anyway.

He nudges the edge of the sled with his boot. “Scoot.” Kenma moves forward, letting the back half of the sled wide open for Kuroo to sit in, his legs propped on the outside of it on each side. The fit is snug, and when Kuroo reaches forward to grab the string he’d left on the ground, he realizes something.

“’M gonna have to keep my hands in front if you want me to steer,” he says, arms almost wrapped around Kenma’s middle and the setter’s back nearly leaning against his stomach, his bleached mop of hair tickling Kuroo’s nose.

There’s a moment of silence as Kuroo waits for Kenma to answer, his friend tipping his head downwards. Kuroo feels a jolt course through him when he feels a pair of hands splay against his arms, keeping them wrapped snug against Kenma’s stomach. He’s suddenly very glad Kenma can’t see his face.

“It’s fine,” he hears Kenma mumble and clear his throat amidst the growing hotness he feels spread across his cheeks, “I need a seatbelt anyway, if I don’t want to fall off the sled again.”

“Right,” and Kuroo’s glad his voice is a lot more composed than he really feels at the moment, busying himself by pushing them forward with his heels against the ground and towards the very edge of the hill. “Well, ready?”

A nod, and Kuroo pushes forward once more before lifting his feet in the air. The toboggan tips, and he feels them start sliding downwards. “Here we go!”

He feels the rush of cool air against his face as they sled downwards, frosting his cheeks and whipping his hair in tangles, their surroundings whizzing past them in a blur. Kuroo steers them forward safely, feeling Kenma’s grip on his arms go tighter whenever they jostle over a small bump on the hill, but they don’t tip over, and Kuroo childishly whoops in delight. It’s over all too soon, however, and Kuroo twists the strings when they reach the bottom, steering the sled so it stops perpendicular from how they started and in turn spraying them with a light coating of snow.

When he gets up and steps out of the toboggan, shaking the snow off his pants, it’s to find a mildly annoyed Kenma with a dusting of snow all over himself, flakes clinging to his eyelashes and his hair. Before he can say anything about it, though, Kenma catches his eye, and snorts, and Kuroo frowns.

“What?”

“Your hair,” Kenma swipes his tongue over the flake stuck to his upper lip and licks it off before patting the rest of it off his clothes. “It’s even worse now.”

“What?” Kuroo repeats, bringing a hand to his hair. It does feel a lot more windswept than usual. “Aw, man.”

Kenma shakes his head, the hint of a smile playing against his lips as Kuroo tries to tame his hair as best he can.

“Wanna do it again?” Kuroo asks when he’s done, and when Kenma doesn’t answer immediately, he adds, “You had fun.” Kenma frowns. Kuroo grins.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too,” and Kuroo’s unwrapping the scarf around his neck, “Come on, one more? If you’re bothered about getting snow in your face, use this. I don’t get snow since I sit in the back.”

Kenma takes the proffered scarf, but doesn’t say anything, peering up from where he’s still sitting.

“I’ll get you apple pie.”

Kenma sighs. “Fine.” Then he lies back down on the sled.

Kuroo looks down, deadpan.

“Are you going to get up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

But Kenma’s smiling, one of those soft lilt of the lips that never fail to melt Kuroo’s heart, so he relents with a fond sigh, and begins to drag the sled up the hill once more.

Kenma is still smiling when, once they’re done, they reach the little restaurant where the rest of their team is waiting for them, Kuroo still amiably pulling him around in the toboggan along the sidewalk and waving to Yaku, who’s yelling ‘where have you both been, we’ve been waiting ages!’

Kuroo doesn’t mind doing these small things for his friend, if it means he gets to see him smile a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never written kuroken before and I realise this is a mistake bc this was a lot of fun to write and I need to do it again i just hope i did the characters justice!!


	3. skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you’re an ice dancer and i’m your coach and when you twirl your partner around i wish i was them instead

“Stop!”

Around them, the other figure skaters skirt around Michimiya and Daichi at the shout, who each finish their spins and leisurely skate back to the edge of the rink where Sugawara is waiting, clipboard in hand. He taps his pen absently as they glide over to him, Michimiya sporting a pout and Daichi looking sheepish.

“The transition was good,” Sugawara starts, “but the spins after that weren’t in sync. Again.”

“Sorry,” Daichi says, bringing one hand up to rub the back of his head. Sugawara can see the way his tee-shirt, tight and dark, clings to the muscles of his arm. “That was my fault, I started earlier than Yui and spun too fast.”

Sugawara shakes his head, sighs, and smiles. “Well, as long as you know your mist—”

He doesn’t have the time to finish when Yui playfully hits Daichi in the stomach, a bit too forcefully from the way he wheezes. “Pay attention to your partner!”

Daichi grins, and he and Michimiya start the same teasing banter they usually partake in, resulting in Daichi twirling his partner around on the ice. Yui squeals and laughs, and Sugawara can only hum and smile, eyes looking down to his clipboard and pretending the sudden squeeze at his heart he’d felt hadn’t happened.

“Whooaah!” a voice pipes up a few beats away, quickly getting closer to the trio. “Spin me like that, Daichi-san!”

Hinata’s skated over to the trio, an awed look adorning his face and a bounce to his step (skate?). He’s dragged his partner along, keeping a tight grip on Yachi’s wrist, the girl looking a little frazzled at the speed he’d lead them to their friends.

When the pair gracefully stops their fooling around and turns to him, both slightly breathless and flushed, Daichi wipes a hand over his forehead and coughs out a laugh, grinning down.

“Ah, sorry, Hinata.” He glances at his coach from the corner of his eye, and then back towards Michimiya, something fond in his look. “But I think if we don’t get back to practice soon Suga’s going to have my head.”

Sugawara has his signature smile plastered to his face, bright and wide and maybe not quite reaching his eyes. “You know me too well, Daichi.” He claps his hands once before waving them off. “Competition’s around the corner, so if you want to win gold, no breaks allowed! Now shoo, go on!”

Hinata whines out a protest, and Daichi groans good-naturedly as Michimiya starts to tug him back towards the centre of the rink. “You’re going to be the death of us, Suga.”

“Less talking, more twirling,” Sugawara answers in sing-song, teasing. Hinata’s still hovering around him, Yachi having skated off somewhere else, and Sugawara turns to him, trying not to let his gaze wander over to Daichi’s backside. “Shouldn’t you be practicing too, Hinata?”

“Ah, Yamaguchi gave me and Yachi-san a break,” the teen explains, gliding around in small figure-eight loops. “He’s working on Saeko’s and Akiteru’s routine right now.”

When Sugawara chances a glance upwards, he does indeed see Yamaguchi observe and call out to the blonde pair on ice, the duo dancing around in a blur of complicated set of spins and jumps to a rapid song. Akiteru’s just lifted Saeko and assisted her in a jump, the young woman spinning around in the air three times before landing perfectly back on the ice, feet steady and arms gracefully raised in the air, a wild and pleased grin on her face.

“Aw,” Hinata sighs out with a pout, “I wish I could do that, but it’s usually the guy who throws the girl in the air. I asked Kageyama to do it for me the other day, but he just yelled at me.” He flattens his hair and sets his face into a scowl very reminiscent of the grumpy figure skater. “ _‘Practice your normal jumps before asking me that kind of thing, you can’t even land without falling on your ass half the time, dumbass!’_ ”

“Kageyama’s kind of right, Shouyou,” a small voice pipes in as Sugawara laughs at the imitation, and Yachi’s come back, two water bottles in hand. “Yamaguchi even said you need to practice your landings better. Here you go.”

“I’ve been practicing!” Hinata insists, gratefully taking the proffered bottle and drinking the water in greedy gulps.

“Well,” Sugawara starts, “your jumps _are_ amazing,” and Hinata instantly lights up at the praise, “but even if Kageyama _did_ accept to rehearse some throw jumps with you, you wouldn’t be able to compete with him. Kageyama’s a solo skater, and anyway, pair skating involves one girl and one guy.”

“So many rules,” Hinata bemoans. “It’s unfair! Don’t you think so, Yachi-san?”

Said girl splutters, dropping her water bottle and flushing. “W-w-why are you asking me that?”

“What?” Hinata says innocently, “Didn’t you say the other day you wished you could be paired up with Kiyok—mmph!”

Yachi’s slapped a hand over Hinata’s babbling mouth, shooting a mortified look Sugawara’s way. “I-I did not! Besides, Kiyoko-chan is a coach, so we wouldn’t be able to skate together!”

Hinata’s still talking, words muffled behind Yachi’s hand, but whatever he’s said, paired with the wiggling of his eyebrows he gives, she seems to have understood, going red from head to toe and hastily dragging him away from Sugawara, apologies spewing forth.

“S-sorry, Sugawara-san! We’ve taken up enough of your time, and our break should be over soon, we really should get back to practice!”

Sugawara only laughs and waves them off. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I have to get back to Daichi and Michimiya anyway.”

Just as he says so, Daichi smoothly slides over to him, skates scraping the ice in a fine mist of snow. He leans over the wall’s ledge, casual with his legs crossed and his hands clasped together over the ledge, and Sugawara hopes to the high heavens his cheeks won’t heat up like they usually do when he’s in the company of the warm grin he’s being given at the moment.

“Distracted, coach?” Daichi asks, tone cheeky and conversational all at once.

_Yes, by you_ , Sugawara wants to reply, eyes quickly taking in the man before him; the dampness of his hair matted against his forehead, the gleam of sweat against his arms and at the front of his shirt, the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath, the crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

“Where did Michimiya go?” he says instead, tearing his eyes away and looking around, leaning forward. Daichi gets up from his stance and spins around, pointing.

“She was complaining about one of her skates, so she went to get it fixed. The blade was feeling dull, I think.”

Sugawara hums, noncommittal as he spots the girl sitting on a bench over the other side of the rink. “I guess you guys deserve a break.” Daichi snorts, amused and loud, and it’s the complete opposite of elegant, of what Daichi looks like on ice, but Sugawara loves it all the same.

“You weren’t even watching us; we could’ve been not doing anything at all for all you know.”

“But you didn’t,” Sugawara replies sweetly. “You’re too responsible and law-abiding for that, aren’t you, Daichi? And as your coach, my word is law.”

Daichi sighs amusedly, shaking his head and leaning backwards on the ledge with his forearms, right next to him. “Unfortunately.” Sugawara punches him lightly on the arm for the jab, and Daichi winces slightly, rubbing at the spot he’d hit. “First Yui, now you? Where is the love,” he bemoans, grinning. Sugawara giggles.

They lock eyes for a second. Sugawara breaks contact first, coughing when he thinks he notices Daichi’s smile soften a tad, there, because that doesn’t happen, of course it doesn’t.

“So, I assume you were practicing syncing up, then,” he says as means of distraction. Daichi nods, oblivious to the flustered notes in Sugawara’s voice.

“I keep gaining too much momentum right before, so I always end up spinning faster than Yui,” he explains. “She’s got it perfectly, though.” He grins proudly. Sugawara does too, even though he feels like it hurts a bit to do so.

“Well, that’s good. At least I only have to worry about one of you.”

“Hey!”

Just then, Michimiya ambles towards them, smiling wide with her fixed skates. Short hair fluttering wildly with her speed, she glides straight towards Daichi, who opens his arms wide and splutters out a cough as she slams into him. She lifts her head from where it rests against his chest.

“Got my skates fixed! Ready to practice some more?”

“Suga said we could have a break!”

Michimiya spins out of the hold Daichi has on her, keeping a hand grasped in his and laughing all the while. “Nonsense! I had one getting my blade sharpened and you had one talking with Suga. Right, coach?” she adds with an impish smile.

Sugawara, selfishly, wants to insist they take a break, if only so he can talk to Daichi for a little while longer. But he’s also their coach, and as their coach, he wants them to do the best they can for their upcoming competition.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says, biting his tongue. Michimiya looks smug while Daichi sends him a mildly betrayed look, looking slack-jawed. “Back to work, slacker!”

“I’ll show you, ‘slacker,’” Daichi harrumphs, following his partner back into the middle of the rink, who’s telling him ‘you heard him! We’re going for gold this year, come on!’

Sugawara briefly glances down at his clipboard, going back to tapping his pen against it every once in a while, and looks back up to watch his duo rehearse their choreography.

The way they dance is mesmerizing to watch, some of the other rehearsing skaters here today stopping to watch them move around. They trust one another completely, neither faltering nor batting an eyelash when Daichi has to pick her up and spins around, he skating in lovely circles and she spreading her arms out gracefully. It’s all effortless, the way the look together, footwork against the ice smooth and precise and flowing from one move to the next, little kicks and twirls and spins that blend seamlessly together in something near-magical.

Sugawara wishes, not for the last time, that it were him in place of Michimiya, twirling happily with Daichi smiling at him, hoisting him in the air and having the feel of the chilled air from the ice against skin contrast with warm palms against his sides, comforting and steady. He wants that closeness, that feeling of trust placed on him not to fall and to skate side by side with him without fault.

Sugawara lets himself smile bitterly for a moment, thinking that won’t be happening anytime soon when he feels his left leg give a sharp familiar sting, before letting his expression smooth over into his usual cheerful beam. He claps his hands once, calling out for Daichi and Michimiya when they finish.

“Good work, once more!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a bit of research for this one bc I know next to nothing abt figure skating except that it is intense and beautiful as heck
> 
> i left the endgame vague bc suga is pining and yui is also in like w daichi but he is?? so dense?? obliviously giving them both hints?? so michidai or daisuga are both valid and i love both take ur pick friends


	4. i love the winter weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's so cold my mouth is numb, you should kiss me before we get frostbite

“It’s so cold!”

“You’ve said that three times already, it’s not gonna change anything about the weather.”

“But it’s coooold…” Oikawa blows on his fingers, breaths puffing out in little clouds as he tries to warm them up, and shivers. Iwaizumi sighs.

“Stop complaining,” he says again, “you’re not the only one freezing his butt off here either.”

The heating in their little apartment had finally given out after a few days of worrying rattling from the heater, dying out in the middle of the night. Iwaizumi had found out when he’d woken up the next morning with Oikawa’s cold feet rubbing up against his shins, the both of them shivering like mad despite the layers of blankets draped over them.

They’d tried contacting their landlord, who’d explained that the heating had unfortunately gone off for everyone else in the complex. They wouldn’t be able to get it fixed until next weekend, since their technician was so busy fixing all the heaters, so they’d have to make do with warm clothes and food for the time being.

Their kotatsu had chosen to give up at that exact moment as well, unfortunately.

“Silver linings, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa had chirped while Iwaizumi had grumbled, “we get to snuggle a lot more, now!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that, Iwaizumi thinks as they’re seated close together, bundled up in as many layers as possible and sitting next to each other, legs tangled together beneath their broken kotatsu. They’re trying to do their homework, but Oikawa keeps sneezing every few minutes, sending his glasses fly off the bridge of his nose every time, and Iwaizumi’s fingers keep fumbling with his pencil, the chill in the air numbing them and making it impossible for him to write properly.

Oikawa sneezes again, loudly. Iwaizumi looks up from his work and puts his pencil down, wiggling his fingers around to get the blood flowing through them again.

“Are you catching a cold?” he frowns. Oikawa just sniffles pathetically and reaches for his fallen frames once more.

“I hope not,” he whines, hitching the blanket encasing the both of them on his shoulders up higher. “I don’t have time for it, I still have two assignments to give in.” He leans to the side, burrowing his face against Iwaizumi’s arm and making his glasses lop sideways. Iwaizumi hears him scoff against the wool of his sweater.

“How are you so warm? Share the heat, you giant furnace!” he says, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and resting his face atop his shoulder.

“I don’t _feel_ warm,” Iwaizumi answers, tilting his head to face his boyfriend. Oikawa looks like a marshmallow, bundled in at least four thick sweaters and a dark green scarf wrapped around his neck. Despite this, his cheeks are ruddy with cold and Iwaizumi can feel the slight tremors he gives off once in a while. Of the two of them, Oikawa’s always been the one most sensitive to the cold.

Iwaizumi doesn’t like the glint in Oikawa’s eyes he sees, just now. He’s scheming something. Iwaizumi squints at him.

“What? Go back to work, you said you had assignments to finish.”

“I say we deserve a break,” Oikawa hums, grinning lopsided. “Besides, if you say you’re cold as well, we should warm up.”

Well. From the way Oikawa’s eyes slip to his lips for a fraction of a second, Iwaizumi has an inkling of an idea as to what Oikawa is hinting to. He’s also getting tired of looking over his science notes. Iwaizumi pushes his papers aside and shuffles around, turning to face his boyfriend properly and making their blanket fall off their shoulders. Oikawa’s hold on him doesn’t falter, and they end up sitting face to face, Iwaizumi’s thighs pressed onto Oikawa’s sides and his hands playing with the hem of his scarf.

“Oh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and he can see Oikawa’s eyes light up when he sees him playing along. “And what do you suggest?”

“Well,” Oikawa breathes, words tickling Iwaizumi’s face they’re so close, noses almost touching. “It’s so cold in here, my mouth is getting kind of numb. So I was thinking you should kiss me before we get frostbite, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi can see the little smudge at the bottom corner of one of Oikawa’s lenses from here, the way his lashes fan softly against them every time he blinks, long and dark. He notices the little quirk of his lips on the left side, how it makes a little dimple appear right beneath his cheek, Oikawa’s expression pleased as punch at the use of such a _terrible_ pick-line. All of these things he is already so very familiar with, but that never fail to make his heart beat a little faster, each time.

“You are,” Iwaizumi snorts out a laugh, “the biggest cheeseball ever,” right before he tugs once on Oikawa’s scarf and slots their lips together.

He hears Oikawa’s pleased little laugh, his lips stretching into a wide smile against his own as Oikawa squeezes his arms around his waist a little tighter. Despite his previous statement, Oikawa’s lips are warm, and soft, pressing against his in a way that warms Iwaizumi up more than any amount of blankets could.

“But,” Oikawa says happily as Iwaizumi backs away and starts giving him small, wet, kisses, stealing every one of his words, “it worked, didn’t it?” He then startles, and squawks. “Iwa-chan, no!”

Iwaizumi grins when he sees the indignant look on Oikawa’s face, not stopping the slow ascent of his hands underneath Oikawa’s many sweaters and onto his stomach, the contrast of cool skin against warm stark. “Iwa-chan, yes,” he replies cheekily, tickling his sides briefly and enjoying the way Oikawa squirms against him. “You said we should keep each other warm, right?”

Oikawa just gives him a weak glare, squinting in defiance before murmuring, “Mean, Iwa-chan,” and diving back for his lips, and this time Iwaizumi is the one to grin against them before he kisses back with just as much vigour, eyes slipping shut.

It’s always a surprise, kissing Oikawa, because it’s different every time. This time, Iwaizumi can still feel the chill of the air wrapped around them, but he also feels molten, the heat between them growing as Oikawa brings his hands up to cup Iwaizumi’s face and parts his lips just so, breathing him in and leaning forward. They’re chest to chest, and even through all the layers, Iwaizumi can feel the steady pound of Oikawa’s heart, feels the jump of his stomach muscles against his hands when Iwaizumi pushes forward and traces his tongue over his lips and into his mouth, drawing out a pleased hum from them.

It’s different, and yet the same, because in the end, every kiss sends warmth and happiness tingling all the way down Iwaizumi’s spine and to the tip of his toes.

Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh when they bump foreheads lightly, Oikawa’s glasses pushing against his cheeks. He leans backwards to take them off, but Oikawa follows him, mouth locked onto his, and Iwaizumi falls on his back, hands sliding out from underneath his boyfriend’s sweaters and breaking the kiss.

Oikawa blinks down at him, clothes rumpled and glasses sitting askew atop his nose, his cheeks flushed with more than just the biting cold. He has his hands pressed flat against the floor on each side of Iwaizumi’s face, and Iwaizumi’s legs are still pushed up against his sides as he kneels above him, encasing him in their hold. Oikawa grins.

“This is a good look for you.” Iwaizumi can feel the tip of his ears redden.

“I could say the same for you,” he quips back, bringing his arms up to wrap around his boyfriend’s waist and pull him down flush against him, enjoying the surprised yelp it squeezes out of Oikawa. He brings a hand up to pluck his frames off his face and places them neatly on the kotatsu. When he turns back, he sees Oikawa blink owlishly a few more times before those chocolate brown eyes of his settle onto his, a fond glint shining through.

Iwaizumi swallows. “You all warmed up now?”

Oikawa makes a show of looking pensive, tilting his head. “Hmm. I’m not so sure.” He smiles and grabs their fallen blanket, throwing it over them in a cocoon of warmth and darkness. “I think we’ll have to try again, just to be on the safe side.” He pecks Iwaizumi on the mouth before flicking his tongue over his lips once, teasing, and Iwaizumi lets out an amused noise.

“Sure,” he says, breath hot and fanning over Oikawa’s grinning lips. “I can do that.”

When he leans up to kiss him, Oikawa meets him halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Furudate’s chapter update had me weak… Oikawa with glasses (○≧ω≦)○
> 
> I’m in the middle of exams at the moment but I’ll try putting up the rest of the days I’ve missed as soon as possible!


	5. a marshmallow world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no prompt

Hinata loves winter.

He’s loved it since she was just a child, looking up excitedly through the window for every first snow and immediately going out to play and make snowmen, winter clothes still only half-done in his haste, his little sister eagerly toddling behind him.

He loves the outside, how everything is coated in a sparkling blanket of snow, how the wind bites his cheeks and how the air makes every word he utters come out in clouds of white. He likes the snow angels, snow forts, snow _fights_ , ducking behind trees and laughing with Izumi and Sekimukai and sinking in powdery, glittering cold. He loves the heaps of clothes he has to wear to keep warm, feeling cozy and happy in layers of warmth.

He loves winter because winter means end of the semester, it means vacation, where he can spend more time going to get hot pork buns with friends and more time playing volleyball, and less time with homework. He loves winter because it’s when he can invite friends over for sleepovers and for horror movie nights, he, Kageyama and Yachi huddled in front of the TV and mouths gaping wide at the terrors happening on screen while Tsukishima and Yamaguchi snicker at them from the foot of the couch and steal some more popcorn.

Winter means hot cocoa, each of theirs different, Hinata’s peppered with melting marshmallows, Kageyama’s with more milk, Yachi’s with a candy cane dipped in, Tsukishima’s a tad bit sweeter, Yamaguchi’s mixed in with some coffee. It means giggling behind open palms when Kageyama finishes his drink with a milk mustache and running away when he chases after them. It means making ginger snaps together, Natsu peeking in the kitchen to swipe a big glob of dough from the bowl with her finger and skirt away, laughing and heedless of her mother’s scolding.

It means grabbing all the pillows and blankets possible when none of them can decide on the heat settings for the kotatsu and making a giant pillow fort, all five of them huddled comfortably and to their own liking in heaps of fleecy sheets and plushy cushions, each of them content and warm despite Tsukishima’s snarky remarks for the childishness of it all. Yamaguchi only hits him with a pillow in answer while Hinata sticks his tongue out in spite.

Winter is telling each other silly stories and humming along to the songs on the radio together, even if their voices are false or at times breaking in their youth, Yachi snickering at the boys’ embarrassment. It’s going back outside for a walk, a competition in snowflake-catching between Hinata and Kageyama, mouths open wide and eyes going crosseyed in a comical fashion. It's Yachi locking arms with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi and swinging them around merrily, feeling the chill of the sleeping earth in their bones. It’s returning to the warmth of the house with their noses tipped red and snow clinging to their hair to find a table filled with rich and delicious meals, everyone digging in heartily before Hinata and his friends all settle in for the night in his room. It's everyone sprawled on mattresses and clad in warm pyjamas, talking and whispering late into the night until they fall into a deep and contented slumber.

Winter is warmth, love, family and friends, and Hinata can’t help but think before closing his eyes, what could be better than that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter this time! the karasuno first years make me v happy so i wrote a lil something abt them


	6. i've got my love to keep me warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stuck in a ski lift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i always update the tags with every new chapter but i'd like to point out the ones for this chapter in particular bc even if it's relatively small it's there so better safe than sorry
> 
> also im sorry if there's a lot of repetition in these stories w the snowfall but?? it's bc i love snow and there is none where i live bc global warming and i just?? :( where is the snow

Asahi is about sixty percent sure this is going to be a terrible idea, when Noya asks him to join him on the gondola for one last ride downhill. Asahi flusters, fiddling with his hands and eyes going back and forth between the hopeful look Noya gives him and the sky above them, steadily growing darker.

“Are you sure?” he asks, feeling something roil in his stomach at the thought of going downhill in the dark. “It’s getting kind of dark…” He’s already not that great with snowboarding in broad daylight, so to do so when it’s pitch black, well, Asahi’s not so sure he might make it.

“Sure!” Noya asserts, nodding a few times and grinning wide. “The lights are going up, see?” He points, and Asahi sees that yes, the lampposts lining up the chairlifts are turning on one by one and casting sharp fluorescent glows on the mountain. “We’ll be able to see the slope fine, and anyway, I’ll be there, so if you fall or veer off I’ll be there to catch you or help you up! You need the practice anyway.”

Asahi knows this little speech is supposed to be reassuring, all of Noya’s five-foot-two (plus hair) frame standing proudly before him with his hands on his hips. He’s seen Noya on a snowboard though, and he’s as fast as can be, zipping between other skiers and snowboarders and even attempting a few flips here and there. Compared with Asahi’s more cautious nature when it comes to snowboarding, it’s going to be hard to keep up with him. It’s hard to keep up with Noya in general, though, Asahi thinks.

Also, Asahi’s pretty sure he’d crush Noya if he were to fall and Noya tried to catch him.

Noya is pretty stubborn, though. And Asahi guesses one last ride down the slope won’t be too bad… he wasn’t able to try many trails today, since he goes down so slowly. Asahi sighs.

“All right, Noya-san,” he says, looking down, and Noya beams. “But just one last ride!”

Daichi, standing aside, gives them both a pointed look when Noya informs him of their plans, but relents when Noya convinces him they’ll join the rest of the team right after that. Most of them already heading towards the cottage for rest and food after a long day of skiing and snowboarding.

“Our table is at the back, meet us there,” Daichi instructs, distracted. Kageyama’s faceplanted in the snow and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are doing nothing to help, snickering away. “We’re still missing Tanaka and Ennoshita, so if you see them on your way down, let them know too.”

“Got it!” Noya eagerly answers with a thumbs up, pulling his ski goggles over his forehead. He then grabs on to Asahi’s wrist, pulling him over to the cable cars station. Asahi nearly trips in the snow, still clumsy in his clunky boots, but Noya keeps him up with surprising strength and a bark of laughter.

Asahi’s starting to second guess himself, now. He tries to send Daichi a telepathic message with his eyes, one last attempt at calling for help, but the latter only smirks and waves. Asahi sticks his lip out in a moue. If it had been Suga instead, maybe he’d have listened to his plights. Or maybe he’d have encouraged him to go and pushed him in the cable car. You never knew, with Suga.

Asahi becomes seventy-five percent sure this is a horrible idea when he and Noya step into the cable car, the attendant wishing them a safe and fun trip down the slope and sending them upwards once the doors close. They’re the only ones in the cable car, and after placing their boards against the wall, Noya is toddling around excitedly in his snowboarding boots, clomping heavily on the metal floor and shaking the gondola around. When he sees Tanaka ski down beneath them, he thumps excitedly on the glass and shouts to gain his attention, but it doesn’t seem to work.

“Ah, Noya-san… could you please sit still? You’re making the gondola shake.” Asahi asks, scratching his chin. Going up in these kinds of contraptions is his least favourite part of skiing. Noya whirls around, blinking.

“Oh. Sure, Asahi!” he replies blithely, stomping his way over to where Asahi is sitting and plopping himself down right next to him. The cable car lurches once more with his movements, and finally stills, keeping stable on their way up. Asahi lets out a breath of relief, and Noya starts humming a tune, undecipherable to Asahi’s ears.

Outside, the friction of wires against the metal of the gondola creates a rhythmic rumble above them, and snow has started falling, coating the marks down the mountain where previous skiers had slid down.

Asahi is now ninety-five percent sure that this was an _awful_ idea, when the lights outside them suddenly shut down and the gondola stops moving, swaying this way and that before settling still. Noya’s humming cuts off, and he lets out a perplexed ‘Eh?’, while Asahi jumps at the commotion.

They’re shrouded in darkness. The snow outside is starting to fall harder, and the sky is now painted in the familiar blue bordering on black of evening. The gondola still isn’t moving. It’s quiet for a while, save for the two boy’s breathing, clouding the air.

Noya jumps up from his seat, going over to look through the window. Asahi nervously looks over to him. What’s happening?

“Do— do you see anything?”

Noya tries to rub at the fog creeping up the glass with his mittens, smushing his nose against the window and squinting. He backs away after a moment, shaking his head.

“It’s too dark and there’s too much snow to see anything,” he frowns, crossing his arms. “Maybe it’s one of those emergency stops? You know, when someone loses their ski before going in the lift or trips and falls after getting out.” He seems to brighten a bit more at his own words. “That probably it! I bet all the other lifts stopped too; they’ll start back up soon.”

That’s very probable. Asahi feels his chest loosen up a bit at the reassurance.

“Oh… Maybe.”

When Asahi feels something vibrate against his coat pocket, he jumps again, before remembering it’s his phone. He pulls out of his pocket before removing one glove, fumbling with the controls and answering.

“Hello?”

It’s Daichi.

“ _Asahi! Where are you and Noya-san!?”_ He sounds frantic.

“Um… We’re in the cable car? It stopped moving, though, and we can’t see anything outside. Noya says it’s probably because there’s been an emergency stop.”

At the mention of his name, Noya perks up. “Who is it?”

“Ah, it’s Daichi. Daichi, I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?” Asahi lifts his phone away from his ear and presses the speaker button, and Daichi’s voice crackles in the small compartment. Noya shuffles back to where Asahi is sitting, and the third year holds the phone between them.

“ _It’s not an emergency stop,_ ” Daichi says, and Asahi furrows his brows in confusion. “ _It’s a power outage, the lights down at the cottage aren’t working either. Apparently the snow’s fallen in too hard and too fast._ ”

“What?!” Noya yells into the phone, getting up abruptly. Asahi’s frozen to the spot.

“ _Suga went to talk to one of the employees here, they don’t know when the power will come back up. They’re sending in rescue teams but they’re going to give priority to those stuck in chairlifts rather than cable cars, since they’re out in the open._ ” Daichi’s voice crackles once more, and Asahi dimly registers that he’s losing reception. “ _They said…  expect to wait… coup—hours at the least… stay saf—we’ll wait… yo—”_

The call cuts off. Noya throws himself back onto his seat. “Damn it! What the hell?!” he yells, annoyed. Asahi still hasn’t found his voice.

They’re _stuck_.

The realisation of it sends Asahi sucking in a startled breath, and he drops his phone.

He _really_ does not like cable cars.

Asahi tries to pick up his phone, but when he drops it again, his hands clammy, Noya looks over at him, frown on his face. Whatever he sees on Asahi’s face, it mustn’t look good (and honestly, Asahi doesn’t _feel_ too good at the moment), because he shuffles closer and bends down to pick up Asahi’s phone for him.

“Ah, t-thanks, Noya-san,” Asahi says, shoulders hunched, swallowing loudly. He flinches when they hear a creaking sound coming from the wires above them, the wind outside making their gondola sway just a bit.

They’re stuck in a ski lift, high up in the air, in what seems to be a rising snowstorm. It’s dark, and cold, and he and Noya are _stuck_ and will be for the next few hours, if he’d correctly understood Daichi’s choppy message. Asahi’s breathing starts to pick up, and he goes queasy, feeling green and dizzy. He’s now one hundred _and ten_ percent sure this idea was the worst.

“Hey, Asahi,” Noya starts. He grabs Asahi’s cheeks, cupping them so they face each other. Asahi feels the roughness of Noya’s mittens against his skin, the warmth of his palms seeping through the wool and onto his cheeks. “You’re fine. I know you don’t like cable cars, but we’re getting out of here. You’re fine; we just need to wait a little bit.”

Asahi spots the familiar glint in Noya’s eyes, backing up his statement with their guardian deity’s firm tenacity, burning like two fireflies in the night. Asahi breathes a little easier at the sight, tries to ground himself with the easy rise and fall of Noya's shoulders that go with his breaths. Noya’s right. Noya’s got his back. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that, when Noya’s usually boisterous and excitable and all-over rowdy in nature.

“Are you sure _you’re_ going to be fine? You’re not the most patient of people,” Asahi jokes weakly. He'd apologise for what had just happened, but he knows that would just annoy Noya; he'd probably tell him it wasn't his fault or something around those lines.

Noya grins and drops his hands from Asahi’s face, understanding the feeble quip as Asahi’s gratitude and way of saying he’s a bit better, now. He drapes himself comically over his seat. “I know! This sucks. I just wanted to snowboard one last time; hey, turn on the flashlight on your phone? That way we can see better.”

“Oh. Right.” Asahi taps on his phone. It casts a small but harsh light in the confine of their compartment, and Asahi places it at the center of the ground. “My phone’s battery’s a little over halfway through, though.”

“Should be fine,” Noya shrugs, and sits himself upright.

Outside the wind howls once more, and the cables above squeak again. Asahi pales. Noya rushes forward.

“Hey, let’s play a game!” he suggests before Asahi can start worrying himself into a frenzy. “To pass the time, like… we’ll take turns humming a song, and the other has to guess which song it is!”

Asahi still feels a little queasy, but he smiles at the idea.

“Noya, you have a terrible voice. I could barely understand what you were humming just a few minutes ago.”

Noya puffs his cheeks out in irritation and scowls. Coupled with his mess of hair, he looks like an angry bird with his feathers all ruffled up, and it only makes Asahi smile wider.

“Do not! You just don’t have a musical ear—but fine, do you have another game in mind?”

Asahi looks away, pensive. “Well… there’s unfortunately-fortunately. One of us says something unfortunate and the other counters with something fortunate.” He doesn’t add that Suga had given him that to do by himself every time he had a negative thought plaguing him. “Um, you can start? Start with 'unfortunately...' and add on to it. And I’ll answer, to give you an example.”

Noya purses his lips. “All right. Hmm… unfortunately, we won’t be able to eat supper for a while.”

Asahi smiles. “Fortunately, I have snacks in my pocket.”

When Noya lets out a startled and pleased laugh and beams at the sweets Asahi pulls out from his inside pocket, it makes the anxious knot in Asahi’s chest loosen and unfurl into something a little warmer and happier.

This won’t be so bad. Right?

* * *

Okay, so it’s a little bit worse than Noya had thought it would be.

It’s been a little over two hours now, and while Asahi’s gone back to being fidgety, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and looking out the window every now and then, Noya feels like he’s about to burst. He needs to _move_.

It’s kind of hard to do so when you’re cramped in a small cable car in the company of a gentle giant, though. Whenever Noya tries to pace around, Asahi shoots him a worried look and asks him to stop moving out of fear that the gondola will sway too much. Also, it’s kind of hard to move around when one is clad in big, clunky snowboard boots. It’s frustrating Noya to no end.

They (Noya) have finished all of the candies Asahi had the good fortune of stuffing in his pockets, and they’ve stopped playing silly games for a while now. After Asashi’s first idea, they’d gone through rock-paper-scissors, rhymes, tongue twisters and twenty questions (and there'd been a whole debate over whether it was better to squeeze the toothpaste tube or roll it), but Noya had quickly grown tired of each after a few minutes, when neither of them offered him the relief of jumping around.

Things had gotten a bit more interesting when Asahi’s phone had managed to receive another one of Daichi’s calls. It hadn’t lasted long, and there’d been a lot of static muddling their friend’s words, but they’d understood that the rescue teams had started their rounds around twenty minutes after the power outage, and that they were almost done with rescuing skiiers on chairlifts and would be moving on to cable cars soon. The call had been cut off after that, when Asahi’s phone battery had died out. Asahi had freaked out a little again, before Noya had been able to calm him down and reassure him; their eyes had adjusted to the dark soon after and things had settled once more.

That had been forty minutes ago, so Noya guesses the rescue teams should be getting to them soon enough.

He hopes so, anyway. The storm outside doesn’t seem like it’ll let out anytime soon, and the cold’s been steadily seeping into the gondola. Noya’s dressed fairly warmly, but there’s only so much a few layers can do against the harsh of winter, especially up in the mountains in a contraption made of metal. He shivers.

“Are you all right?”

Asahi’s glancing his way, looking upset. Noya huffs and kicks at the air, before remembering that that would probably scare Asahi. He swallows down his frustration and tries to still himself before turning to his friend.

“I’m fine,” he says, lifting his scarf up a bit higher. “Just annoyed. And bored. And cold.”

“Ah.” Asahi hasn’t moved much from his spot since the beginning of this whole ordeal, only shifting around in his seat every half hour or so. He also hasn’t seemed all that bothered by the cold. “We could share body heat? I don’t feel too cold.” He lifts his arm for emphasis, leaving a free spot beside him.

Noya shuffles over and drops right next to Asahi, pressing himself right up against him, and Asahi only moves his arm to wrap around Noya’s shoulders. Noya thinks this might be a ploy to get him to sit still, but he’s not about to complain, not when he’s got six feet of plush teddy bear to snuggle with.

“What the hell,” he mutters, “you feel really warm and it’s probably like minus ten bajillion degrees outside. How do you do it? Tell me your secret, Asahi.” Noya pokes him in the side, but the effect is dampened when he wears fluffy mittens and Asahi has a thick coat on. Still, it makes Asahi laughs, if only lightly and slightly nervous, and it brings a grin to Noya’s own face.

“Ah, well, I don’t know? I’ve always had a higher body temperature; it’s not that great in the summer, though,” Asahi tells him mildly.

“Well it’s super useful now, so thank you for being hotter than average,” Noya quips. Asahi splutters, but Noya only registers his words a little too late, and he feels his cheeks grow hot when he does. He’s glad the dark is there to hide his mishap, and quickly tries to change the subject. “Anyway! I really hope the rescue team reaches us soon—sorry, Asahi, but your candy only does so much and I’m getting hungry.” His stomach growls just as he says so.

“Yeah, me too.”

Noya twists backwards, looking out in the windows. “Maybe we should just try to open the cable car and jump down. We can’t be that far from the cottage, can we?” He doesn't think they're that high from the ground, too. Either way, the snow would break their fall at the rate the storm was raging on.

Beside him, Asahi looks alarmed.

“Noya, no.”

“I was being hypothetical.”

Noya twists away from the window and settles back in the crook of Asahi’s arm, sighing out.

“I’m hungry,” he whines. Asahi huffs. It tickles the tips of Noya’s hair.

“Aren’t you always hungry? That’s all you think about.”

“That and volleyball,” Noya grins. He wiggles his toes inside his boots, trying to get rid of the numbness creeping up his limbs and dreading the thought that he’s going to have to sit in a bus for a few more hours after this. He’s going to need to run _at least_ ten laps around the Karasuno gym to get the feeling back in his limbs.

It’s quiet for a little while, both lost in thought. Noya moves with the slow rise and fall of Asahi’s chest next to him, listens to the rumble of his breath fanning out into the air and the rhythmic squeak of the cables as the gondola sways with the wind, rocking them steadily back and forth. Noya’s cocooned in a strong and warm embrace, and he can feel his eyes droop, feels himself nod off and lean further and heavier against Asahi’s frame.

The last thing Noya feels, before his eyes flutter shut completely, is the soft squeeze of Asahi’s arm around his shoulders. Noya smiles into the hug, and lets himself dream.

* * *

Asahi is woken up by a harsh beam of light in his face, accompanied by a steady rumble overhead. He blinks and squints, and beside him, still wrapped in his arm ( _wrapped_ in his _arms_ oh goodness they were _snuggling_ ), Noya grumbles and wiggles around, letting out an unhappy sound at being woken up so abruptly.

The man before them, standing in the doorframe of their cable car, smiles warmly.

“Good evening. We’re deeply sorry about the wait. Are either of you injured in any way?”

Asahi lets out a tremulous _whoosh_ fall from his lips, relief relaxing his shoulders. Noya is sitting up straight and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, but he looks happy and excited at the prospect of getting out. Asahi thinks he really would have tried jumping out the gondola had they stayed a minute longer.

“No,” he answers weakly, smiling. “No we’re fine, just, maybe a bit cold.”

When the helicopter lands a few ways away from the cottage, Asahi and Noya both swaddled in huge blankets over their winter gear, it’s for them to find the whole team anxiously waiting by the front door when they enter. Hinata looks like he’s been crying, with Yamaguchi in a similar state and Suga fretting over them. Kageyama and Tsukishima are frowning harder than usual, while Tanaka and the rest of the second years have got hot chocolate and even more blankets at the ready, at Kiyoko’s and Yachi’s suggestion. Daichi looks restless, as if he’d been pacing around. Ukai and Takeda are at the back, both with dark bags beneath their worried but relieved eyes.

Hinata runs over to them when he spots them first, yelling. “Asahi-san! Noya-san!”

Noya tumbles over to him, legs still numb from their disuse, laughing roughly and patting Hinata on the back as he reassures him. Soon enough, Tanaka’s following in Hinata’s footsteps, and eventually the whole team is surrounding Noya and Asahi.

Asahi flusters a bit at the attention, questions raising this way and that, but he’s happy for his teammates’ concern. Daichi tries to make them move backwards, waving his arms around.

“Give them space!” he orders. “Do you guys want to sit down?”

“ _God_ , anything but that,” Noya groans. “I think I need to run around for a bit. Also, is there food left?”

“Of course there is,” Suga answers him. “The power isn’t back on, but there’s sandwiches and hot chocolate for you both and everyone else who’s gotten stuck.”

When Asahi looks around, he notices all the other people in states similar to his and Noya’s, sitting around tables and eating merrily, tired smiles on their faces.

“Great!” Noya grabs a sandwich and divests himself of his blankets and coat before zooming past the team. Daichi chuckles fondly and shakes his head.

“Glad to see he’s doing well,” he says as he and Asahi sit down with the rest of Karasuno. “What about you?”

Most of the team is falling asleep now that they know their teammates are safe and sound, heads pillowed on their arms over the table. Ukai and Takeda have shuffled over, making sure Asahi and Noya are really all right after briefly talking with the rescue team, before going back to coordinate the team’s departure with the bus driver. Suga is making rounds, making sure everyone is all right. He takes one look at Daichi and Asahi and smiles warmly, then jogs over to where Noya is running, the libero well on his fourth lap around the inside of the cottage.

“Me?” Asahi munches absently on his food. “I’m okay. I—I mean it wasn’t fun, and it was actually kind of scary. But nothing bad happened.” He swallows. “Noya. Noya-san was there. So it was okay.”

He looks down, hiding his blush and fully aware that Daichi’s holding his teasing back with his knowing grin, and that he’ll probably get the brunt of it tomorrow, when he’ll be a little less ruffled by today’s events.

But he means it, what he says, and the thought of it makes him smile: in the end, Noya-san was there with him.

So everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this isn't much of a countdown anymore when i've missed ten days days in a row... haha
> 
> i'm done w exams now though and i don't plan on skipping the days i've missed so expect a flurry of chapters to come your way in the next few days! but first i need to sleep


	7. winter wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you just watched me slip on the ice and wind up sitting in the snowbank beside the parking lot. You’re laughing and now it’s you slipping and your face in the snowbank across from me

Tsukishima is left at the cash to pay for their groceries, when Kuroo picks up their bags and saunters away.

“I’ll wait for you at the car!” he tells him, and Tsukishima only clucks his tongue and goes for his wallet, because he knows Kuroo’s just trying to escape having to fork over some money for their food. It doesn’t matter; Tsukishima’ll just add this to his ever-growing list of blackmail he has on his boyfriend.

Maybe he’ll ask for a massage. Kuroo was pretty good with his hands…

“Thank you, have a nice night,” the cashier chirps in front of Tsukishima, pulling him out of his thoughts. He takes the proffered receipt, shoving it in his pocket and mumbling a polite reply before he heads for the supermarket’s exit doors.

He spots Kuroo a few ways away, leaning all casual-like against his car with his hands in his pockets and his usual Cheshire cat grin; he’d probably already put away their groceries. Tsukishima lets out a derisive snort at the sight. Kuroo probably thought he looked cool, with the way he was standing and how his coat was open, pretending the cold wasn’t bothering him like it did with normal people.

Tsukishima steps off the sidewalk and into the parking lot to join Kuroo, but before he can take two steps forward the world tilts before him, his feet slipping on ice. He trips sideways and ends up finding himself sitting in the snowbank lining around the parking lot, stunned and with his butt and hands now ice cold. The world is a little blurry around the edges from his glasses having gone lopsided with his fall, but Tsukishima can see Kuroo doubled over laughing from his spot _perfectly well_.

He fixes his glasses up and squints, glaring. Kuroo is still laughing as he makes his way over to Tsukishima, one arm wrapped around his middle.

“It wasn’t funny,” Tsukishima calls out, a little miffed.

“It was _too_ funny,” Kuroo replies in between chuckles, getting closer. “You should’ve seen your face!” As he talks, Tsukishima can see him blithely going for the exact spot where he’d fallen, for the thin sheet of ice covering the pavement and not paying attention to his surroundings, too busy still laughing.

Before he can let out a warning, however, Kuroo makes the _exact_ same mistake he did not two seconds ago, feet slipping over the ice and eyes going comically wide. His grin slips into an ‘oh’ of surprise, and he falls right next to Tsukishima, face down in the snow and arms and legs sprawled out.

Tsukishima involuntarily lets out a giggle, before quickly choking it back down and schooling his expression. Kuroo lifts his head to look at him, shaking off the snow from his hair and grinning knowingly.

Tsukishima, knowing he’d been caught, doesn’t want to see that expression at the moment. He gets up and dusts the snow off himself, clearing his throat before looking down on his boyfriend, face deadpan.

“I can’t believe you,” he says, tone flat.

Kuroo only rolls over in the snow and looks up at him, looking sheepish. “Oops. Help me up?”

He moves one arm up towards Tsukishima, wiggling his fingers. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but takes his hands and tugs.

Big mistake.

Tsukishima yelps as Kuroo pulls him, sending him tumbling back down into the snow. He falls on top of his boyfriend, who lets out an ‘oof!’ when he receives a jab to his sides from Tsukishima’s arms, their legs tangled together.

They’re pressed flush against each other, Kuroo’s hand still holding on to Tsukishima’s arm and his other going to wrap around Tsukishima’s middle before he can try to escape. This close, Tsukishima can feel the beat of Kuroo’s heart against his ribcage, the hot breaths fanning over his lips each time he exhales, spots the snowflakes that still cling to Kuroo’s eyelashes when he blinks, eyelids droopy and lazy.

Tsukishima can also feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“You—!” he starts, stammering. “Kuroo, let go!”

He tries wiggling around, but Kuroo holds on to him steadfast, chuckling.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” he says, grinning. “Literally. That’s the oldest trick in the book, Tsukki.”

“Har, har.” Tsukishima replies, as impassive as ever. He’s stopped moving around, resigned to his fate for the time being. “I’m sorry if I haven’t taken Flirting 101 like you have. I’m not a gigantic sap.”

“Oh come on, Tsukki, you secretly enjoy these kinds of things too.”

“Not when it involves us freezing to death. Can we get up now?”

Kuroo sighs loudly. “Fine,” he relents. He weakens his hold on Tsukishima, letting him get up before he himself stands up, the both of them patting the snow off their clothes once more.

Before Tsukishima can turn around and start making his way to their car, however, Kuroo pulls him back towards him, and Tsukishima lets out a noise of protest. Kuroo hugs him tight and gives him a firm kiss on the lips, his own chapped and rough against Tsukishima’s softer, more pliant ones.

When he lets go, leaving them both with a little happy flush over their cheekbones, Kuroo whirls them both back towards the car, hand in hand and embarrassed as hell. Tsukishima can’t find it in him to tease him over it or complain about the PDA (there’s no one else out in the parking beside them anyway), just as flustered as Kuroo, and lets him.

He finds his voice when they’re both seated, Kuroo driving them out and onto the road towards their apartment. Behind them, the groceries move around in the backseat, rattling the plastic bags with every turn Kuroo makes.

“For the record,” Tsukishima starts, crossing his arms and frowning, “you’re on your own if you end up catching a cold after all this.”

Kuroo keeps his eyes on the road, lips tilting up in a smile. They’re still holding hands, palms warm and steady against each other in between the seats.

“Sure, Tsukki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuurgh i feel like i made tsukki a bit ooc in this one?? orz


	8. rockin' around the christmas tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we’re decorating the tree and you look really cute when you’re excited about Christmas

“I’m back!!” Yachi bounces into the living room, cheeks flushed with exertion and holding a large cardboard box in hand. She bends down, setting it on the coffee table with a relieved groan.

Kiyoko smiles. “Thank you, Hitoka. I’m almost done, so we’ll be able to decorate soon.” She’s still busy setting up their tree, making sure it won’t move in its stand.

Yachi marches over at the words, crouching next to Kiyoko to watch her work. She worries her bottom lip. “Do you need any help?”

Kiyoko shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she smiles. “I think I’m finished now.” She finishes bolting in the last screw against the base of the tree before getting up, Yachi following in her stead with a twinkle in her eyes. She’s bouncing eagerly from side to side while Kiyoko gives the tree one last shake to make sure it won’t budge.

“Woah, it’s so tall!” she blurts out, tilting her head up to look up at the tree, and Kiyoko nods. The tip almost reaches their ceiling, but Kiyoko had brought along a footstool for them to reach the higher branches. Yachi whirls around towards Kiyoko. “Can we start now?!” she asks eagerly. She’s vibrating with excitement, fists curled and smiling wide. It warms Kiyoko to see her girlfriend this happy.

“Yes, we can. What did you bring?”

Yachi cheers, and bounds over to the cardboard box, opening the flaps.

“There’s Christmas lights, of course—um, there’s white ones, blue ones, and multi-coloured ones, which one do you think we should use? There’s lots of ornaments too,” she continues, pulling out decoration after decoration, “snowflakes, reindeer, Santas, crystals, snowglobes… oh!” She gasps, eyes wide in sudden realisation and looking as if it’s the end of the world.

Yachi’s got her arms full, lights tangled up around her shoulders and hands full of decorations, but she scrambles out of the room, nearly tripping over her own feet and the trails of lights dangling around in her haste. Kiyoko quickly bounds over to her, grabbing her arm before she can get too far.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, concerned as she gently unrolls the web of Christmas lights trapping her girlfriend. She doesn’t need whatever mishap had happened at Daichi’s and Suga’s last week to occur here, Kiyoko thinks, remembering with an amused smile the panicked call Suga had given them.

Yachi shoots her a grateful look and quickly pecks her on the lips before running out of the room, leaving a stunned Kiyoko with her arms full of lights.

“We can’t decorate without holiday music!” she shouts from their dining room, where their radio is stationed. Kiyoko can hear the first notes of a cheery American Christmas song waft into the room, the singer crooning in smoky and pleasant tones. “We need as much Christmas spirit as we can get!”

Yachi’s back in the living room, smile on her lips and hips swaying to the music ever so slightly. She beams when Kiyoko meets her eyes.

“All right,” she says, looking calmer. “All better! Let’s start!” She rolls up her sweater sleeves and huffs determinedly, and Kiyoko chuckles.

“Yes, let’s,” she agrees, detangling the mess of wires in her hands. “How about white lights, this year?” she suggests, lifting said decorations.

It’s been three years since they’ve moved in together, Kiyoko thinks as the two of them bustle around the tree, and even longer since they’ve been together. And yet, her heart still never fails to swell at the sight of Yachi. Not when she smiles, not when she frowns, not when she cries, not ever.

Especially not now, when Yachi has her tongue peeking out in concentration and is reaching for a tree branch high up with an ornament in hand. She’s full of cheer and spirit, clad in warm stockings and skirt, a thick, woolly (ridiculously cheesy) sweater and a swinging Santa hat, all dressed up for the holidays. She won’t stop dancing, singing along high-pitched to the songs on the radio and letting out peels of merry laughter. Kiyoko melts at the adorableness of it all, marvels at her girlfriend’s clumsiness when she puts one too many decorations on the same branch and causes them to nearly fall, Kiyoko saving them at the last minute. She smiles at the pout on Yachi’s lips when she can’t reach certain places on the tree, letting Kiyoko take care of the upper half of the tree, even though she’s not much better fared for it.

Kiyoko’s never been one for Christmas, not fond of grand celebrations and festivities.

But she loves Yachi, and spending time with loved ones and being happy together is really what Christmas is all about, so it’s all worth it in the end, if only to keep Yachi smiling like that, the air around them enveloping them in warmth and the lovely perfume of pine needles.

Yachi perks up when the next song on the radio comes on, a livelier tune playing with rock notes in the background.

“I love this song!” she shouts gleefully, jumping up and down and skipping around before she begins to sing along once more, voice lilting in charming awkwardness.

Kiyoko smiles and laughs, and sings along with Yachi, reaching for another ornament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am kiyoko lol


	9. all i want for christmas is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we wore our ugly christmas sweaters on the same day so now we’re in a silent competition of ugly sweaters

“Oh ho?”

“Oh ho ho?”

When they enter the locker room at the same time, Bokuto and Kuroo look over each other slowly and grin, jumping for a high five. They leer as they admire each other’s, quite frankly, positively _atrocious_ sweaters, two tacky things full of horribly knitted tinsel and patterns.

Tsukishima looks on, disgruntled and a little perplexed but not completely surprised. It's now winter, and he’s had the time to adjust to these two’s antics at their last joint training camp a few months ago.

“Do I even want to know?” he asks, mostly to himself.

Next to him, Akaashi shakes his head and moves his gym bag to the bench in front of them, unbuttoning his shirt all the while.

“They did this last year as well,” he sighs out. “It’s a competition to see which one of them can come up with the ugliest holiday sweater. It makes one wonder how many ugly sweaters they’ve managed to collect.” He bends down to shuffle the contents of his bag, pulling out his runners. “In any case, just try to ignore them.”

It’s a bit hard to do so, when Kuroo and Bokuto are the type of people to be very in-your-face about these kinds of things. Luckily, Tsukishima likes to think he’s become quite good at evading them.

Besides, their training camp is only a week long. How bad can it be?

* * *

It’s bad.

Tsukishima physically cringes when he spots Kuroo’s chosen attire the next morning at the cafeteria, the Nekoma captain casually sauntering over to his table and draping an arm around his shoulders.

It’s a hideous bright green, what Kuroo's wearing, a terribly knitted gingerbread man at the front and ‘LET’S GET BAKED’ written over it in blocky white font. Is this kind of clothing even allowed in a high school setting?

“Hey, Tsukki,” Kuroo drawls, lazy grin on his face. “How are you on this fine, lovely day?”

Tsukishima wishes Yamaguchi would hurry up and join him soon so he won’t be stuck with Kuroo alone for too long, and decides to cut straight to the chase.

“What the hell are you wearing.”

Kuroo looks down slowly, pulling on the hem of his sweater to show it off and cocking an eyebrow upwards. “Oh, this old thing? It’s just a gift from a dear friend of mine.” Tsukishima is pretty sure he can guess who this ‘dear friend’ of Kuroo’s is. “Why, you like it?”

“Hardly.” Tsukishima bites out. “It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever layed my eyes on.” He doesn’t ask where on earth Bokuto had managed to find such a sweater for his friend, dreading the story. It’s too early for this.

Kuroo lets go of Tsukishima, placing a hand over his heart instead.

“Why, Tsukki,” he says, all smiles, “that’s possibly the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I’m flattered.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and pushes his glasses up, preferring not to answer that and going back to his food. Otherwise Nishinoya will pester him about eating again, the little bugger gazing at him intently two tables down.

Tsukishima looks back up quite quickly, however, when he hears someone enter the room and Kuroo gets up all of a sudden, palms slamming on the table and shaking Tsukishima’s plate of food. Tsukishima clucks his tongue in annoyance.

“Wha—Bokuto! That’s cheating!”

Bokuto pays Kuroo’s yell no mind, grinning wide with an arm up, hand poised in the victory sign. His other arm is locked with a resigned-looking Akaashi by his side. Bokuto swaggers over to them, Akaashi following with a little less bounce in his own steps.

“Hey hey hey! We didn’t say anything against pairing up for the competition, so this totally counts! You think I get bonus points for this, right, Akaashi? Do you, do you?” He bounces around Akaashi, eagerly waiting for an answer.

“Don’t rope me into this, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mumbles, impassive. Tsukishima feels slightly sorry for the setter, but also can’t help but cackle at the sight.

“It looks like you already have,” he says, gesturing to their matching sweaters—they’re striped red and green, with colourful Christmas stockings knitted at the front and ‘I’VE BEEN NICE’ written above Akaashi’s and ‘I’VE BEEN NAUGHTY’ on Bokuto’s. They look ridiculous.

Akaashi settles his lifeless and long-suffering gaze onto Tsukishima. “Don’t remind me.”

“How did you even get Akaashi to agree to this!?” Kuroo squawks as Bokuto preens.

“He made me promise to not bother him for tosses for the next three days! Which is super cruel, by the way, Akaashi!”

“You won’t last more than one night anyway, Bokuto-san.”

“But it was worth it, right? Don’t we look cute?!”

Bokuto twists this way and that, showing off his completely _not_ cute top, while Kuroo laments loudly, bringing his hands to cover his face as he wails.

“You do, damn it! Tsukki!” he whirls around to face Tsukishima, who startles. Akaashi takes Bokuto’s currently distracted disposition to quietly slip away, and great, now Tsukishima is stuck alone with Kuroo _and_ Bokuto. “Pair up with me!”

“What? No way. I don’t even have a dumb sweater to wear.”

Yamaguchi, the traitor, chooses that exact moment to join Tsukishima, sliding next to him with a platter of food in hand and holding a meat bun between his teeth.

“Wha? Daff’ no’ ffew, Tffukki!” He takes his meat bun out of his mouth and places it on his plate, chewing and swallowing before continuing. Tsukishima narrows his eyes in suspicion. “You have a really cute sweater with a T-Rex wearing a Christmas hat on it, remember? Akiteru got it for you last year—”

Tsukishima flushes. Bokuto and Kuroo slide their leer towards him, eyebrows raised.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi doesn’t sound sorry at all, grabbing a forkful of rice and stuffing his face with a beam.

Kuroo looks as if he’s about to say something Tsukishima doesn’t want to hear, Bokuto standing behind him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Tsukishima _really_ doesn’t want to end up like Akaashi, and he cuts off Kuroo before his fate can be sealed.

“Why don’t you ask _your_ setter? Or Hinata,” he sneers. “I bet he’d like to join you in your little games.”

Tsukishima lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the cogs work in the two third years’ heads, both of them looking at each other eagerly and talking a mile a minute, coming up with strategies to get other people to join them.

He’s glad he’d evaded _that_ one.

* * *

The next few days see Kuroo and Bokuto coming up with, if it were even possible, more terrible sweaters, each one worse than the last. Tsukishima’s not sure whether he should laugh or groan whenever he sees them, hooting and cackling at each other and generally acting outlandish (not that that’s anything new for them). He’s absolutely sure, however, that he wants to rub his eyes until the images of their appalling sense of fashion fades away from his memory.

Surprisingly, the rest of the teams around for training camp take it all in stride, when the two captains run around asking which sweater of the day is better and tallying up points. Tsukishima supposes they meet up much more than Karasuno does with them and so have grown used to this type of behaviour from Kuroo and Bokuto.

So far, there’s been three-dimensional sweaters, one with a Christmas tree done with garlands at the front from Kuroo and another with actual working Christmas lights draped all over Bokuto’s shirt, a little remote to blink them on attached to the sleeve of his sweater (the winner of the day). Then there’d been silly animal puns, Bokuto running around hugging everyone with his ‘Owl keep you warm’ sweater, while Kuroo had decided to go for one with a knitted cat saying ‘Meowy Christmas’ (that one had been preferred by most, probably because Kuroo didn’t go around embracing everyone far too affectionately like his companion had).

The fifth day had probably been the most ridiculous of them all, with Bokuto’s ‘Ho Ho Homo’ jumper and Kuroo’s cropped ( _cropped_ , Tsukishima shivers at the memory) ‘Santa’s favourite ho’ shirt, the both of them dancing ridiculously. Lev had been laughing raucously while Akaashi had told them, as blunt as ever, to ‘please cover up, you’re both scarring everyone.’ They’d kept on with their childish dance-off, however, attracting everyone else in a circle around them and cheering them on (and Tsukishima thinks Suga had managed to capture it all on his phone), until their coaches had to yell at them to go get changed for practice.

Today’s their last day at training camp, which relieves Tsukishima in more ways than one; he thinks he’s seen it all by now, so he’s prepared for whatever Kuroo and Bokuto throw their way.

And he is, really, a bit surprised at the mildness of the sweaters they’d chosen today as he packs everything up, ready to leave for Miyagi with the rest of Karasuno.

“Huh. Thought they’d go out with a bang or something,” he mutters, adjusting his glasses as he watches.

Kuroo and Bokuto are wearing matching sweaters again, both identical with ‘All I want for Christmas is you’ and a hand pointing towards the other printed at the front. They’ve started singing the song by the same title, sidling up closer to each other with every lyric.

Akaashi comes over, crossing his arms as they both look over the two’s antics. “Don’t worry, they will,” he comments, voice deadpan. “They do this at the end every year, too.”

Tsukishima frowns. “Do what?”

Akaashi just quietly nods his head to the scene in front of them.

Kuroo’s twirling Bokuto around, hand in hand and grinning, before he pulls him back closer once more and dips him. Bokuto goes along with it, pointing one leg up high in the air and wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s neck. They’re still singing, both terribly off-key.

And Tsukishima is completely unprepared for what happens next.

“ _All I want for Christmas…_ ” Bokuto croons.

“ _Is yooouuu_!” Kuroo finishes, right before he tilts his head down and swiftly plants one giant kiss right on Bokuto’s lips, who kisses him right back and just as happily.

Tsukishima is dumbstruck.

“What.”

Akaashi sighs.

“I told you so. Sorry, maybe I should've warned you beforehand,” he says, before turning around, and is that a _smirk_ Tsukishima sees on Akaashi's lips? That had been  _completely_ done on purpose, not telling him about this, Tsukishima thinks as he narrows his eyes. Akaashi is impervious to his glare and simply continues to smirk as he shouts over to the happy couple, clapping his hands to get their attention. “Bokuto-san! Everyone else is ready to leave and waiting for you; please stop so we can properly say goodbye to Karasuno.”

Tsukishima can hear the smack echoing against the wall when Kuroo and Bokuto break the kiss, loud and wet, and he thinks he’s going to have to wash his ears for a week before he can get the sound of it out of his memory.

“Sure thing, Akaashi!” Bokuto says, smiling and waving. “Tsukki, we’re going to miss you!”

“Yeah,” Kuroo adds, waggling his eyebrows. “Hope training camp was an eye-opening experience for you.”

Tsukishima gives him the most unimpressed glare he can muster up at the moment, completely aware that Kuroo isn’t talking about volleyball. He turns tail without answering, leaving the room and going over to where the rest of the Karasuno first years are. Hinata and Kageyama are fighting as usual and Yamaguchi is standing a few ways back, unsure what to do.

When he sees Tsukishima make his way to them, he lights up instantly.

“Tsukki! Where were you? Daichi was about to send Ennoshita out looking for you!”

Tsukishima sighs, and pulls out his headphones from his bag, settling them over his ears and scrolling through his music library on his phone.

“Believe me,” he grouses, the image of Kuroo dipping Bokuto playing in his mind over and over again, “you don’t want to know.”

Yamaguchi looks at him questioningly, confusion in his eyes, but he thankfully doesn’t ask, and Tsukishima lets out a grateful breath.

He’s going to have nightmares about training camp for the rest of the week.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know what this is please forgive me


	10. jingle bell rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our christmas tree caught on fire because you decided to tinker with the decorations. what the hell did you do to our poor lights?

Suga wasn’t expecting to come home to a fire when he’d left for work this morning.

But here he is, standing dumbstruck and eyes wide, in the doorframe of their living room, gaping at a panicking Daichi and their flaming Christmas tree.

Granted, the fire is pretty small, little flames dotting along a few branches; but it’s snaking down the lights wrapped around the tree, and if it grows any more, it’ll end up reaching the outlet where the lights are plugged.

Daichi’s still fumbling around, a separate string of lights tangled around him and hands hovering over their tree but not sure what to do. He’s obviously not about to act on anytime soon, so it’s up to Suga to keep a level-head. Keep calm, get Daichi away from the tree and put out the fire before it gets any worse.

Instead, Suga screeches.

“Daichi! What the hell did you do?!”

His boyfriend looks like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes quickly flitting back and forth between the tree and Suga and hands raised, trying for placating.

“I was… you wanted blinking lights but they didn’t sell them at the store,” he sputtered, “so I thought I'd try tinkering with these ones…”

Suga wants to simultaneously laugh and smack his hand over his forehead in exasperation. Out of everyone in their little third-year group, Kiyoko’s the one who went into electrical engineering in university, while Daichi’s the one who was banned from even going near their electrical stove. Of course, Daichi probably wanted to surprise Suga with the lights and told himself he didn’t need any help with the tinkering. And of course, Daichi going anywhere near an electric outlet meant trouble, Suga thinks as he spots the fizzing wires and transistor lying near the base of the tree. Suga wishes he'd gotten home a little earlier to avoid any of this.

It’s too late for wishful thinking, though. The wires start smoking, letting out a sizzling sound, and the fairy lights suddenly start popping in quick succession, causing sparks to climb up the tree and flame up. Daichi jumps, startled. Suga yells again.

“Daichi, get away from the tree!” and he runs over to his boyfriend, grabs his arm and roughly pulls him away from the room as the lights keep sparking. Daichi shoots him a panicked look.

“Should I get some water to put out the fire?!”

Suga’s pretty sure water and electricity don’t mix, even if there’s fire involved, but he’s not thinking too straight at the moment so he doesn’t trust himself.

“Let’s call Kiyoko,” he says instead, and quickly pulls out his phone while Daichi runs to the kitchen, tripping over the stray wires dangling around his feet.

Kiyoko picks up after the third ring. Suga doesn't stop nervously tapping his foot.

“Hello, Sugawara? What—”

“Kiyoko-san!” Suga tries to explain as coherently and quickly as possible. “Our Christmas tree caught on fire; the lights are fizzing up and there’s smoke coming out from the power outlet, we’re, we’re not sure what to do to put it out!”

Daichi bursts back into the hallway at that moment, out of breath and holding a bowl filled to the brim with sloshing water.

“I’ve got water!!”

Kiyoko apparently hears him from her end of the call, because she immediately shouts into Suga’s ear, “Don’t use water!” Suga winces at the loudness, and he can hear Yachi-san in the background, asking her girlfriend what’s happening. Kiyoko continues firmly and soundly. “If it’s the wiring causing the fire, don’t let water get near it under any circumstances. Do you have sprinklers installed at your house?”

Suga quickly looks at his ceiling, feeling his heart race. “Uh, no, no, we don’t. Daichi,” he hisses, “Kiyoko says no water!”

Daichi looks down at the bowl, alarmed, and holds it as far as possible from the door to their living room.

“What—what should I do?!”

“That’s good; if the fire alarm goes out there’s no risk of water hitting the wires. Have you called the fire department?” Kiyoko continues on her end, as calm as ever. Suga shakes his head, forgetting that their friend can’t see him, but she seems to take his silence as an answer. “Do so now; use baking soda or flour to douse it if you feel it’s safe enough for you to try, or a fire extinguisher if you have one, and get out of the house as soon as possible.”

“Oh—okay!” Suga can’t believe they hadn’t thought of calling the emergency services. He motions for Daichi to do so, miming the action, and Daichi understands immediately, quickly putting his bowl of water down and pulling his own cellphone out of his pocket.

“Stay safe,” Kiyoko tells him. “And please remind Daichi to never play electrician again,” she sighs out. “Call me back so I know you’re both okay.”

She hangs up, and Suga turns to Daichi, who’s just finished his own call and his raking his hand through his hair. He looks just as frazzled as Suga feels, and a little bit miserable to boot.

“They said they’d get here within less than ten minutes,” he says. Suga nods, peeking his head in the doorway to look at their tree; the lights have stopped sparking, only wisps of smoke floating into the air from the lightbulbs, but there’s still flames singeing up the branches, quick and steady.

“Kiyoko said to dump flour or baking soda over the flames. Should we try that?”

“I’ll go get some,” Daichi replies, running back into the kitchen. He comes back with their bag of cooking flour, hands chalky, and before Suga can say anything about it he quickly dives into the living room and drowns their tree in the entirety of the bag’s content, big dusty clouds of flour erupting around. When he returns, he’s coated in a sheen of powdery white all over, staining his clothes and hair.

“I think I got the most of it,” he says, breathless, and Suga lets out a sigh of relief, entwining one hand with Daichi’s and swiftly pulling them both out of the house.

Later, as their hearts stop pounding with adrenaline and they wait outside in the frigid air for the firefighters to give them the all clear and let them back inside, Suga can’t help but laugh. Daichi, who’s got him wrapped in his arms (coating Suga in flour in the process) and is holding him tightly, looks down at him curiously.

“What’s so funny?” he asks. Suga shakes his head, smiling.

“Nothing, just. Leave it to you to play macho and tinker with the Christmas lights, when they were already fine as is.”

Daichi smiles sheepishly.

“Ah, sorry. I just saw an article on the Internet, and I thought it would be a nice surprise for you to come back home to. It looked really easy, too!” he adds in his (meagre, Suga thinks) defense.

“Nothing with you and tinkering equals easy,” he grins, and Daichi pouts. “But I’m glad nothing too bad came out of this; it could’ve been a lot worse.” Daichi grips him a little tighter in his arms, looking guilty.

“Yeah, it could’ve. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!” Suga smacks Daichi lightly on the shoulder; he knows Daichi feels terrible about all of this, but he also meant well, and, well, Suga can't fault him for that. Even if he _did_ burn down their tree. “It’s fine now. We'll look back at this in a few months as something funny.”

He moves his hand to brush away the flour coating Daichi’s lips, and Daichi watches him, eyes intent. Suga smiles sweetly.

“But if you’re _really_ hell-bent on apologising,” he hums, voice smooth like honey as he cups Daichi’s cheek with one hand and slides the other down his backside, teasing, “and you still want to surprise me, you can always make it up to me tonight.”

Daichi grins.

“I think I can manage to do that.”

When he leans down to kiss him, Suga smiles against his lips.

Well, he can at least say Christmas this year will be memorable.


	11. christmas dreaming (a little early this year)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you own the best bakery in town and I need an insane amount of cookies for this party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was supposed to be short i swear
> 
> also i'm sorry for any mistakes that pop up i didn't go back over this chapter like i usually do bc i'm trying to get to all the other darn diddly chapters i missed i'm still behind by a week on this countdown argh
> 
> i'm going to try to post one last chapter tonight before i go to bed; wish me luck! *thumbs up emoji*

“Thank you for your purchase!” Yamaguchi smiles as he slides the box of cupcakes towards his customer. She smiles back, thanking him and handing him the correct amount of money for her purchase.

She’s a regular, often coming over Yamaguchi’s bakery to buy a little something and sit by the window for a few hours. She’s rather shy, and not very talkative; whenever Yamaguchi strikes up a conversation she speaks quietly and fiddles with her hair, looking down. But she’s very friendly, all smiles and gentle eyes, and very cute, laughing at Yamaguchi’s every joke he awkwardly delivers and her hair always done up in an adorable updo.

Yamaguchi curses his ability to crush on people so easily.

He also curses his ability to crush on people who don’t take an interest in him, per say, but for…

“Um,” the girl, Ayumi, twirls a lock of hair around her finger, a blush spreading on her cheeks. Her eyes slide over to the other end of the counter, and Yamaguchi’s heart sinks. Here we go again. “I was wondering… who your co-worker was? He’s um,” and her blush deepens, “very handsome.”

Yamaguchi plasters on a smile, feeling his cheeks ache already with the act.

“Ah, that’s Tsukishima Kei.” Ayumi’s eyes brighten at the words, and she claps her hands excitedly.

“Oh, that’s a lovely name! I wonder how it’s written? Do you think I could talk to him? He seems so awfully quiet, but he has a cool air about him, too! I’ve been trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, but he’s also very tall, so it’s a little intimidating…”

Yamaguchi, very politely, cuts her off.

“I’m sorry, but I need to take the next customer’s order. Tsukishima-san is very busy,” he explains, smile strained, and Ayumi seems to deflate a little. Yamaguchi backpedals. “Ah, but! I’m sure you can talk to him once his shift ends, around five?”

Ayumi bows swiftly, beaming. “In that case, I’ll wait until then, if that’s no bother! Thank you very much!” She grabs her pastries and runs off to her usual table, looking grateful and elated. Yamaguchi watches her flutter away, crestfallen.

“Have a nice day…” he says weakly into the air, and sighs. Next to him, someone snorts.

Tsukishima’s walked over to him, looking as impassive as ever. Yamaguchi, however, has known him long enough to notice that the change in his stance and the minute slant of his eyebrows, imperceptible to others, means he’s annoyed.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he says, taking their next customer’s order all the while. Tsukishima narrows his eyes.

“Why didn’t you just ask her out,” he states, and Yamaguchi winces. Was he that obvious? “It’s written all over your face.” Tsukishima adds, answering his unspoken question. “Stop taking the coward’s way and dumping your troubles on me.”

“I’m not—!” Yamaguchi starts, offended, and lets his shoulders fall. “It’s no use asking them out when all they’re really interested in is you, isn’t it? They’d just say no. That’ll be 300 yen, please,” he tells the old lady in front of him. Tsukishima clicks his tongue, bending down over the displays to reach for the desired pastry.

“You never know unless you try, don’t you? Besides, you’re just setting up these girls for rejection.” And Yamaguchi knows this, when he’s fully aware that Tsukishima has absolutely no interest in any of these girls (or anyone in general, for that matter), and that this evening will probably end in tears for Ayumi and discomfort for Tsukishima, but what else is he supposed to do?

He doesn’t answer his friend, simply taking the boxed slice of cake he hands him over and giving it to the customer, trying to ignore the disapproval he can feel in Tsukishima’s gaze. Tsukishima sighs and turns away, walking back to the baking station.

“Just,” he calls out over his shoulder, “next time, tell them I’m not interested, at the very least.”

Yamaguchi flinches, because, okay, that had hurt a little, the fact that Tsukishima had said ‘next time’. He wasn’t in wrong in doing so, though, because how many how that been, now? Five, six? Six people who had unknowingly and indirectly rejected him. And it didn’t seem to Yamaguchi as if this would stop anytime soon.

The elderly woman in front of him takes her order, and pats him on the hand comfortingly.

“You need to grow a little backbone, dearie,” she coos, and Yamaguchi sighs. He’s getting scolded over his poor excuse of a love life by both his best friend and complete strangers, now.

“Yes, yes. Will do.” He smiles. “Thank you for your purchase!”

* * *

A week passes, and Yamaguchi is too busy to worry about things like crushes and potential rejection, baking and cooking left and right. Everyone wants to order something for the holiday season, cakes and cookies and pies and cupcakes, and it seems to Yamaguchi as if these days, he’s always covered in something like flour or sugar or icing, unable to catch a break.

It’s especially hard when he doesn’t have many employees, the only regulars here being himself and Tsukishima, and a few part-timers to help out here and there. Today’s been particularly hectic, with Tsukishima unfortunately calling in sick and Inuoka having spilled a tray of freshly-baked cookies _three_ times so far. Yamaguchi’s been running all over the place, stressed out of his mind.

 “Inuoka, no!”

His co-worker hears Yamaguchi a moment too late, and trips over the footstool in front of him with a startled yell, spilling the bag of sugar he’d been carrying _right_ into a bowl of cake batter and slapping a few icing pipes into the air as he tries to fix his mistake, sending them hurtling towards Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi, reflexively, grabs for the pipes, but in doing so, squeezes too hard and causes the icing to spurt all over himself, coating his face and hair in sticky-sweet frosting.

Inuoka freezes standing, mortified. Yamaguchi tries to steady his breathing, willing himself not to cry out of stress. He doesn’t have the _time_ to cry anyway; he still has a plethora of orders to fill out and customers to take care of.

“Y-Yamaguchi-san, I’m so sorry!”

Tonight, when he closes up shop, Yamaguchi tells himself, he’s going to run himself a nice hot bath with soft candlelight and a good book, and _no one_ will convince him to do otherwise. He deserves it.

“It’s. It’s fine, just,” Yamaguchi says, voice a tad too brittle for his taste. He tries again, clearing his throat. “Clean up the mess, and please try to scoop out as much sugar from the batter as possible. I’ll go tend to the customers at the counter.”

He tries to wipe the icing off his cheeks with his hand, but he thinks he only worsens it. It doesn’t really matter, Yamaguchi tries to convince himself; it’s not that big of a deal, he always looks somewhat of a mess anyway, it comes with the job after all. He takes a deep breath, composing himself and plastering a wide smile, and goes out to greet whoever will be waiting at the counter.

“Hello, sorry for the wait; how can I help yo…”

Yamaguchi cuts himself off when he sees who’s there at the front, standing nervously. Never mind the fact that there doesn’t seem to be anyone else waiting with them (which is a miracle in itself, considering the constant lineup Yamaguchi has to deal with this time of year).

The person before him is looking at him timidly, clutching a crumpled note in her hands. She’s tiny, barely coming up to Yamaguchi’s shoulders, with wide brown eyes and blonde shoulder-length hair, bangs clipped back with an adorable barrette.

Yamaguchi can feel his heart thump loudly at the same time. He knows he’s staring, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her, mouth gaping slightly.

_She’s really cute_ , he thinks to himself, quickly followed by, _oh no_.

“Um,” he tries again, composing himself and feeling his cheeks heat as he realises the sorry state he’s currently in. There’s icing drying on the tip of his nose and sticking to his hair, his apron is stained with food colouring and his hands are covered in sugar. “H-how may I help you?”

When he reaches the cash register, the girl squeaks as she realises she has to crane her neck backwards quite a bit to properly look Yamaguchi in the eyes, a tremble in her lips and her entire frame.

“S-so tall,” she whispers, eyes unfocused, and Yamaguchi’s a little perplexed and downtrodden, because he doesn’t look intimidating to her, does he? He thought she’d find him rather silly-looking at the moment, in his current attire.

The girl startles herself out of her reverie, shaking her head a few times before she flattens the creases in her note. “U-um! Yes, I’d like to make an order!”

Okay. This Yamaguchi can work with. “All right. What kind of order?” he smiles.

“Er, cookies!”

“Oka—”

“Three hundred of them! For this weekend!”

Yamaguchi chokes.

“W-what?!”

“I’m so sorry!” The girl wails, bowing low, and boy, Yamaguchi is glad the day is nearing its end, the shop thankfully near empty. “I know this seems very last minute; ah, I mean, it _is_ very last minute of me, but I volunteered to bring in the pastries for this party, and didn’t know who to turn to, and I heard this was the best bakery in town, so—”

“Y-you did?” Yamaguchi hears himself ask, blushing red at the compliment. The girl gets back up, face in hands, nodding vigorously.

“Yes! And I’m so _so_ sorry about this, but is there any way at all you could make this happen?”

She looks so sad, and so hopeful, looking up at him with trembling eyes. Yamaguchi can feel it tug at his heartstrings, even if he has three cake orders and one other cupcake order for this weekend. He opens his mouth, ready to reject the poor girl and direct her to another bakery, because he can’t _possibly_ fill her order in as well.

“Of course,” is what he says instead, a small voice inside his mind yelling at him and asking him what the ever-loving _hell_ he thinks he is doing. “No problem at all! What kind of cookies were you thinking of ordering?”

The girl beams, straightening up and looking _so_ relieved, and Yamaguchi feels a little bit better about his runny mouth. But only a little.

Curse his soft heart, he thinks as he feels himself melt a little at the grateful look he’s given. The girl places her note on the counter, smoothing out the corners and reading.

“Um, one hundred chocolate chip cookies, one hundred ginger snaps, and one hundred chocolate mint cookies. Is that still possible?” she asks then, raising her head and looking nervous again.

Yamaguchi’s making quick mental calculations in his head. If he finishes the tiers on the red velvet cake _tonight_ and the cupcakes _tomorrow morning_ , then he can maybe start the other cakes by Thursday and the cookies by Friday night.

He sighs internally. He’s not getting any rest tonight, he thinks regretfully.

“Yeah, no problem,” he repeats, taking the girl’s note when she offers it shyly. “When will you be picking it up?” The girl twiddles with her thumbs, thinking.

“Um, this Saturday. At two?”

“At… two, in the afternoon…” Yamaguchi jots down on the note, before looking up. “And who’s name should I put down to pick it up?”

“Ah, mine. Yachi Hitoka.”

_Cute…_

“… Yachi Hitoka. All right, three hundred,” Yamaguchi mentally cringes at all the sleep he’s going to lose this week, “cookies for Yachi Hitoka at Saturday, two pm sharp! You’re all set!”

Yachi-san lets out a loud sigh of relief, hand on her heart, and smiles brightly.

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much! I’m so relieved!” she cries out. “I feel like I need to pay you back!” she adds determinedly, pulling out her wallet, but Yamaguchi waves his hands in front of him.

“You don’t need to do that!” he says, shaking his head frantically. “Three hundred cookies is already going to cost you quite a bit, so you don’t need to feel as if you need to buy something else!”

“Oh, but I want to!” Yachi-san insists, thrusting a paper bill in front of Yamaguchi. “I need to know if this  bakery really is the best, and these pastries all look so cute! What’s this?” she asks, peering down at the display shelves. “Éclair…?”

Yamaguchi feels his face flaming. “A-ah, yes…”

“I’ll take one of those, then!” she says loudly, standing up. She pauses, and reddens. “Please,” she adds, quieter with her feet shuffling on the ground.

When Yachi-san leaves, beaming with her mouth full of éclair, Inuoka peeks out from inside the kitchen.

“Yamaguchi-san, I tried my best to get rid of as much sugar as possibl… Yamaguchi-san?”

Yamaguchi is unmoving, note in hand and cheeks still burning. His mind is still reeling between that lovely smile and those chocolate brown eyes, and the new order of three hundred cookies he has to fill within the next five days, on top of his other workload.

Yamaguchi slowly slides to the floor, hiding his hands in his face and heedless of Inuoka’s alarmed ‘Yamaguchi-san?!’ sent his way.

He’s doomed.

* * *

Tsukishima is much less sympathetic to his plight.

“It’s your own fault for putting your foot in your mouth,” he says, more irritable than usual. He hasn’t said anything, but Yamaguchi thinks it’s probably because he still has a lingering headache from his fever, and the bakery’s bustling crowd isn’t helping much today. “Learn to think before you speak.”

“But Tsukki—!” Yamaguchi whines, kneading dough all the while. “I’m really going to need your help, I can’t do this alone!”

“Ask—”

“Goshiki and Suzumeda-san have already volunteered to help with the other orders due this weekend, and I convinced Aone to man the counter so I could focus on the baking,” Yamaguchi cuts in quickly, beginning to shape the dough in walnut-sized balls. He ignores the raised eyebrows Tsukishima gives him, because, all right, he knows having Aone work with the customers is maybe… not the best choice, but he can’t do much else at the moment.

Inuoka, who barges in right then, yells out, “Yamaguchi-san! I can help!” and Yamaguchi winces, turning to his co-worker with a strained smile as he remembers the disaster he’d caused in the kitchen just the day before.

“Ah, Inuoka… that’s very kind of you, but, um, maybe; I think, next time?” he stammers, biting his lip as he watches Inuoka wilt slightly. “You can decorate the cakes!” he adds quickly, because while Inuoka’s clumsy when he’s eager to please, he can also be very focused and pay attention to details when he wants to.

Inuoka brightens up immediately. “Okay! Got it!” Yamaguchi smiles weakly at his enthusiasm.

“Great; um, for now, can you, um, clean up? I’m going to need to use those bowls again soon,” he says, nodding towards said appliances.

Inuoka is off, arms full of dishware, and Yamaguchi is once more alone with Tsukishima, who has his arms crossed and seems intent on not budging about the situation. Yamaguchi huffs, blowing his bangs out of his face. He’s going to have to pull out the big guns, huh.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he stresses, and Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, interest peeked.

“Oh?”

“All Jurassic movies,” Yamaguchi breathes out, already bemoaning the idea. He’s seen them enough to last him _at least_ two lifetimes. “I’ll come over and marathon them with you next week. And I’ll make you strawberry shortcake.”

Tsukishima doesn’t move. Yamaguchi groans.

“And the Land Before Time. I’ll watch that too.”

Tsukishima smirks.

“All right,” he says, pushing up his glasses. “I’ll help. But only so I don’t have to hear you crying one more time about disappointing the cute girly customer.”

Yamaguchi is affronted, but his flushing complexion isn’t helping his case.

“I haven’t—! She’s— you—!”

Tsukishima simply lets out a peal of laughter, hand covering his mouth, and goes for the spices cabinet.

* * *

Yamaguchi feels as if he’s about to keel over, when Saturday afternoon rolls over. He’s spent nearly every day (and night) working in his bakery, finishing up his other orders and baking all the usual pastries needed to stock up his shop in the morning, and even going so far as to set up a pillow and a sleeping bag in the kitchen. Everyone’s been a huge help, making sure the shop ran smoothly and cleaning up while he cooked. Aone’s been a big surprise, especially, having become a big hit with the customers, and Yamaguchi thinks he’ll have him work upfront from now on, if the man wants to.

Tsukishima’s also been incredibly helpful, despite his constant testiness (but Yamaguchi knows it isn’t heartfelt), baking batches upon batches of cookie dough alongside Yamaguchi, bringing him strong cups of coffee when Yamaguchi could barely lift his eyelids open, making sure Inuoka wasn’t causing a ruckus in the kitchen, and even going so far as to kicking Yamaguchi out of the bakery on Friday night and forcing him to take a rest, telling him to not worry about the orders. When he’d come back the next morning, it was to find all of the dough made and nearly all of the cookies baked, Tsukishima calmly sipping on some hot chocolate.

Yamaguchi doesn’t think he deserves a friend like Tsukishima, who detests putting in any amount of unnecessary effort and yet did this for him, but he does know he owes him _at least_ two strawberry shortcakes and one batch of strawberry milkshake. He’d give him a great big smooch on the cheek, too, if he didn’t know Tsukishima was so averse to affection. Instead, he gives him the day off, brushing away his concern by saying he has his other employees to help.

Still, Yamaguchi is swamped from the morning of, all the way leading up to the afternoon, working extra hard to finish up Yachi-san’s order. When he finally does, taking out the last of the baking trays around fifteen minutes before two o’ clock, Inuoka next to him finishing up the touches on the cake Yamaguchi had allowed him to decorate, there’s a great cheer between him and all of his friends. He boxes up all the orders, and places the ones for delivery in their little truck, Suzumeda-san driving away with a cheeky wave.

Yamaguchi sighs in relief, dusting his hands off and slumping his shoulders in satisfaction. Christmas is this Sunday, so he gets to close up shop then and embrace the sweet, sweet reprieve of a bath and a book; he can’t wait. He’s going to get take-out for Christmas dinner, and no one can judge him for it; he doesn’t want to see any cooking ware for _at least_ the next 48 hours.

He goes back inside the shop, past the kitchen and by the counter, where Aone is placing the last of the cookie boxes for Yachi-san.

“Thank you, Aone-kun,” Yamaguchi says, “I can take over for now. Would you mind helping out with Goshiki and the mille-feuille?”

Aone gives him a nod before sliding over to where his co-worker is struggling, as quiet as ever.

There’s a slight lull in the shop now, everyone having gone back to work after lunch hours, and Yamaguchi absently taps his fingers to the beat of the music playing overhead, eyes going droopy. He’s not in sync, never having heard the song before, but he’s grateful for it, because Yamaguchi swears, a bit drowsily, if he has to hear _Let it Snow_ one more time—

The chimes above the entrance jingle as someone enters, and Yamaguchi perks up, pausing in his drumming.

It’s Yachi-san. She’s breathless, as if she’d run all the way here, coat and scarf put on hastily and socks not completely tucked in her boots, both uneven and mismatched. Her eyes shine bright and her cheeks are ruddy from the exertion, hair slightly mussed up and chest heaving with every breath she takes. She’s as adorable as ever.

Yamaguchi wishes he’d changed; he doesn’t even want to think about the sorry state he’s in right now.

“I’m so sorry!” she yells when she gets to the counter, startling Yamaguchi. “I tried, getting here as fast, as I could, but there was traffic, and then I had, to help a cat down a tree, and now,” she heaves a huge gulp of air, “I’m late! But I’m here!”

“It’s fine!” Yamaguchi reassures her, hands raised, “It’s fine! I don’t mind for those things, don’t worry about it!” She’s also only here three minutes after the clock had struck two, so really, she’s right on time, Yamaguchi thinks.

Yachi-san gives him a big smile at the words.

“Oh, good,” she breathes out, “because I was so worried, you accepted my order so kindly and so quickly, too, so I didn’t want to make you think I wasn’t grateful about you taking it at such short notice, and—oh my god.” She stops mid-babble, head raised and sniffing the air. “What _is_ that?”

“Um,” Yamaguchi starts, “I think—probably the cookies.” He points to the three white boxes piled up next to him. “Would you like to see?”

“Can I?” Yachi-san asks, hopeful, and Yamaguchi simply opens the top box in answer, sliding it over to her. She peers inside, mouth watering at the sight.

“Oh, these look _delicious_ ,” she says, then seems to backtrack, looking left and right. “N-not! That I didn’t think they _weren’t_ going to be delicious, I mean, of course they were going to be, and I’ll. I’ll just stop talking right now.”

Yamaguchi smiles. “Would you like to try one?”

“Really?”

“I don’t see why not,” Yamaguchi laughs, scratching the back of his head. “They’re your cookies, after all.”

Yachi-san gingerly takes one of the cookies (chocolate mint) and takes a tentative bite. Yamaguchi startles over the counter when she nearly melts to the floor, alarmed and with his arms reaching out.

“Whoa!”

“‘Hese harr fo goofd,” Yachi-san moans, taking another bite before swallowing. “How did you do it?”

“Um,” Yamaguchi says, relieved that she’s fine but also flustered beyond belief at her verdict, “it’s my grandma’s recipe. She was a really good baker; she taught me how to make most of the pastries here, actually.”

“Well, these are incredible! You’re—a really amazing baker!”

Yamaguchi feels as if smoke is about to steam from his ears, that’s how red he is. He’s too ruffled up to notice the blush on Yachi-san’s own cheeks when she catches up with her own words.

Their nervous shuffling around is interrupted when they hear another chime from the bells above the door, both turning their heads around to see who it is.

Yamaguchi feels a bit bad when it happens, but his heart sinks when he sees who it is.

“I forgot my headphones here,” Tsukishima says, shaking the snow off his boots. “I… oh.”

“H-hello!” Yachi-san stutters, stiff as a poker.

Yamaguchi wilts.

“Yachi-san… this is Tsukishima-san, my co-worker. Tsukki, this is Yachi-san; she’s the one who ordered all the cookies,” he introduces with a wave of his hand between the two of them. Tsukishima frowns at him, obviously knowing what’s going on in Yamaguchi’s head and displeased about it.

It’s a lost battle, however, Yamaguchi thinks to himself despairingly; Yachi-san’s seen Tsukishima now, there’s no way she’d ever look back.

“N-nice to meet you!” Yachi-san continues, letting out a small ‘eep’ when Tsukishima inches closer and she has to crane her neck even further to meet his eyes. “Did you help with my order?” At Tsukishima’s imperceptible nod, she squeaks and bows low. “Thank you very much! I’m sorry for the trouble!”

Tsukishima looks a little taken aback at the display.

“It’s fine,” he mutters quietly, before giving a pointed look Yamaguchi’s way. “Yamaguchi did most of the work anyway. I’m going to get my headphones now, goodbye.”

He walks around the counter and into the kitchen, leaving Yamaguchi and Yachi-san alone once more and. Yamaguchi slowly turns towards the girl, ready for the onslaught of questions he’s about to receive concerning his best friend.

“Woah. He’s so tall; taller than you!” Yachi-san says. Yamaguchi sighs, and hums in resigned assent. Here it comes. “Um,” and she twiddles with the hem of her skirt, looking away. “So, I was thinking about this, because I feel so terrible for all of this, and your cookies are _amazing_..”

Yamaguchi quickly lifts his head up. What?

“And I want to do more than just pay you for them, but I didn’t really have anything else to repay you with,” Yachi-san continues, shifting her gaze to look up at him, cheeks pink. “So I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to my holiday party?”

Hold on.

What?!

Yamaguchi feels like a fish, his mouth opening and closing silently while his brain short-circuits.

_What!?!?!_

“I mean,” Yachi-san starts, biting her bottom lip nervously, “this is pretty last-minute of me— _again_ , I’m so sorry—but, um, you just seem like a very sweet person, and I’m sure all your deadlines were very stressful, so I thought it’d be a nice way to relax? I mean! If you want! Everyone there is very nice, well, Oikawa-san’ll probably be able to find which buttons to push to annoy you really quickly, but Iwaizumi-san will keep him in check, don’t worry, oh , and Kageyama-kun is a bit of a grouch, but he’s harmless, and—”

She’s rambling again, making grand gestures with her hands to support her— _adorable_ , Yamaguchi thinks, _he’s going to combust_ —arguments, and Yamaguchi would _love_ to go, but. But.

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” he says, cursing the fact that this time, his work is what’s preventing him from accepting the invitation. “But, ah, I can’t; I have to keep watch on the shop.”

“Oh,” and is that _disappointment_ Yamaguchi hears in her voice? It can’t be, “well, um…”

Yamaguchi wants to crawl and hide beneath the counter, because he’s done it again, hasn’t he; he’s ruined the pleasant atmosphere between them.

There’s a nagging voice at the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Tsukishima, however, urging him on.

_Why don’t you just ask her out? Just do it._

“But!” he yells out before he can stop himself, and Yachi-san looks a little less downtrodden, a little more hopeful.  “Um, maybe we could hang out, some other time? When I’m not working, and you’re not busy as well?”

Yachi claps her hands once and skips a little. “Yes! That sounds good!”

Yamaguchi can’t believe it.

“Great!” He shuffles around in his pockets, fishing for a pen. “I’ll just, um, give you my number?” At Yachi-san’s nod, Yamaguchi pencils it down over one of the boxes. “And we can decide on something. Later.”

“Yes,” Yachi repeats, seemingly just as dazed as he is at this turn of events. “Later.”

Yamaguchi’s nervous as hell right now, but when he spots the elated expression on Yachi-san’s face, he can’t help but smile eagerly too. Yachi-san lets out a cough, after a while, and they break eye contact, bashful.

“Um, so, I have to go,” she says, picking up the boxes and tottering a bit at the weight. When Yamaguchi reaches out to help her, she stops him, legs shaky. “I’m fine! But, I’ll call you! Okay?”

She hefts the boxes once, determined, and shoots Yamaguchi one last grateful look before she turns towards the door.

“Okay!” Yamaguchi calls back out. “Have fun at your party!”

He’s met with one last smile, and the chime of bells as the doors close.

It’s quiet in the shop, now. There’s not another customer in sight.

Yamaguchi’s feeling all sorts of things at the moment.

Tsukishima, standing by the kitchen doors with his arms crossed and his headphones around his neck, smirks as Yamaguchi slowly turns to him.

“I…” Yamaguchi starts, dumbfounded. “I did it!” He can’t believe it. He can’t believe it. Yamaguchi brings his hands to his face, hiding and elated.

“You did,” Tsukishima assents, humming. “You’re welcome.” He yelps when Yamaguchi grabs a hold of his wrists, pulling him around to skip around and jig, laughing in joy. “Oi!”

“I did it! I gave my number to Yachi-san, she's going to call me, she loves my baking, Tsukki!”

Tsukishima scowls. “So I’ve seen. Let go, you’re making a fool of us both.”

“I’m going to make you strawberry milkshakes for a _week_!”

“I’m holding you to that.”

* * *

Yamaguchi smiles, a few days later, ignoring Tsukishima’s eye roll and muttered ‘and so it begins,’ and Inuoka, Goshiki and Suzumeda’s prying eyes, when Yachi comes in, beet red from head to toe and holding a small white box in her hands for him, all wrapped up in lovely red and green ribbons.

When he opens it, it’s to find a slice of simple vanilla cake with a fork placed next to it. It’s a little undercooked and overcooked in places, and the icing is smudged here and there, the food colouring darker at the top and lighter towards the bottom.

It’s the best piece of cake Yamaguchi’s ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *prays to the skies* give me more yamayachi
> 
> also land before time trumps all jurassic movies fight me on this


	12. little jack frost, get lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we’re both sick and we both grabbed for the last can of soup at the store

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we all know by now im terrible with updating regularly...
> 
> i do have three other chapters ready though so i'll be putting those up shortly! sorry for the spam :s

It’s the rumbling deep in the pit of his stomach that wakes Akaashi up.

He sighs, blinking his bleary eyes awake and rolling over, peeking one arm out from beneath his nest of cozy blankets to paw at his phone. Nearing six-thirty in the evening, his screen tells him. Akaashi squints at it, blinks and coughs. From outside, the moon glitters in through his window, the night fairly quiet. A feat, for a city like Tokyo.

Akaashi still doesn’t feel all that great, but after trying to sleep off his flu all day, it’s an improvement to this morning. His body isn’t wracked with hot and cold shivers anymore, nor does his head feels as if it’d been flattened over by a steam roller. His nose is still clogged and his throat feels dry, though, and Akaashi can feel another cough coming up.

Akaashi sighs, sitting up in a daze and shivering when he pulls his covers off of himself. He rubs his face wearily. He usually keeps healthy, part of the lucky ones who don’t get caught by the flu season along with everybody else in the fall, but he always gets sick once a year, around his birthday. So really, he’d been expecting this. It’s unpleasant all the same.

As he pads over to his kitchen, the growl of his belly getting more insistent by the minute, Akaashi mentally checks off his to-do list for the day. He _thinks_ he remembers calling in sick for work and texting Bokuto to cancel his plans with him, Kuroo and Kenma, but he can’t be too sure. He’ll have to check his phone again, even though just the thought of his screen glaring at him makes him rub his forehead in irritation. He doesn’t feel like facing Bokuto’s doubtless dejection at the moment.

When he opens his fridge, shoulders relaxing in relief as the cool air brushes his face, Akaashi lets an annoyed noise slip out. The shelves are mostly empty, save for a near-empty carton of milk, two eggs and some soggy vegetables. Not particularly appealing, his stomach informs as it roils, queasy. His cupboards are much the same and oh, right. He’d meant to go grocery shopping and stock up for the week this morning.

Akaashi slowly slumps his head against one of the cool shelves, soothing the flush on his face. He’s going to have to go out and get some food. And maybe some medication, too.

A shower it is, then. He needs to get rid of his sweaty pyjamas and freshen up a bit, he thinks, making a face when he rakes a hand through matted hair.

Thankfully, there’s a corner store near Akaashi’s flat, and it only takes him a few minutes to reach it (even though it’d taken him a lot longer to get ready, nearly dozing off in his shower and then on his bed when he’d been getting dressed). It’s also miraculously not crowded, with only the cashier slumped behind the counter with a newspaper in hand to greet him. Akaashi quietly grabs a basket near the entrance and goes to amble through the aisles.

He decides to only get the necessary items for now, not in the mood to go full-out shopping. He’s also getting more and more tired by the minute. He sighs. He’ll probably have to call in sick for work again tomorrow.

He’s nearly done, going for the canned goods aisle now. The instant noodles make him a little queasy when he sees them, and he can almost feel the heaviness of them stick deep to his stomach, going a little green at the thought. That’s not what he’s looking for, however, but when he sees the shelves for soup sparse, with very little cans lining up, Akaashi frowns. He hopes there’s at least some chicken noodle soup left.

There is, in fact, one left, standing alone on the top shelf, and Akaashi reaches up to grab it.

His fingers brush against another hand instead. Akaashi blinks, and turns his head around.

“Oh, sorry—”

Akaashi blinks again.

“Kageyama-kun?”

The other stops his fumbling at the sound of his name, going rigid with surprise.

It _is_ Kageyama, Akaashi confirms as he looks him up and down to make sure. He’s a little bit taller than the last time he’d seen him, a little bit _different_. That’s to be expected, though, when that had been over two years ago, during Akaashi’s last joint training camp before he’d graduated. The baby fat sticking to his cheeks has melted into the leanness of adulthood, and there’s something softer edging along his eyes, now, something less naïve and sullen than before.

Kageyama also looks terrible, with eyes rimmed red and hair a mess. Like himself, actually.

"Akaashi-san," he says, hesitant. "Right?" Akaashi hums in assent.

“How are you?” Quite honestly, Akaashi doesn’t think the formalities of asking Kageyama how he is apply when he looks just as bad as Akaashi feels, but he’s always defaulted to politeness when he doesn’t know what to say.

Kageyama jerks into a sneeze, as if in answer, and adjusts the mask covering the lower half of his face.

“I, uh. I’ve been better,” he says, voice thick. “You?”

Akaashi snorts, and immediately regrets it when his throat protests and he ends up nearly coughing out a lung.

“Same as you, it looks like,” he answers, and gestures to his basket, holding some tea, saltine crackers and medication. Kageyama nods once. “What are you doing in Tokyo?” He doesn’t mean to pry if it’s none of his business, but Tokyo _is_ an awful long way from Miyagi, and Akaashi can’t help but wonder.

“I was,” Kageyama starts, “um, visiting campus. I’m studying here next year. Asahi-san let me stay over for the weekend while I visited.” That makes sense, Akaashi thinks, remembering Asahi as Karasuno’s former ace. “The soup,” Kageyama then blurts, averting his eyes. “You reached for it first. You can have it.”

He sneezes again, bending over with the force it. When he gets back up, there’s a glimmer at the corner of his eyes, and he sniffles once, glaring and generally looking miserable.

Akaashi sighs. Soup wise, there’s only that can left and a red lentil flavoured one, which Akaashi is less fond of.

“It’s fine.” Kageyama looks as if he’s about to protest once more, so Akaashi beats him to it. “How about we share it? I don’t think I can stomach the entire can by myself,” he suggests. He wisely doesn’t add that he suspects Kageyama might be lost, noting the city map Kageyama tries to hide behind his back.

Kageyama opens his mouth, then slowly closes it. There’s a furrow to his brow, but he seems grateful when he says, “If that’s all right with you, then. Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t’ve said it otherwise,” Akaashi answers, straightforward. He means it when he says something, and he doesn’t mind, anyway. They may not have talked much during their high school years, but Akaashi's always somewhat admired Kageyama's intensity and talent on the court. Even if he'd seemed rather brash about it at times. Besides, if Kageyama is going to study here this coming spring, and ends up joining the university's volleyball team, then they'll most definitely see each other a lot more. They might as well get to know each other now.

He grabs the can and drops it into his basket, and turns to Kageyama. “Were you buying anything else?” Kageyama shakes his head. “All right, well I’m done, so I’ll pay and we can head to my apartment. It’s not far from here.”

Their walk is quiet, punctuated by coughs or sneezes and sniffles every once in a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. Akaashi doesn’t think he’ll be ready for conversation until he gets something in his stomach, anyway.

When they reach his flat, putting away their coats, Akaashi goes for his kitchen and starts setting up their meal, heating up the soup on his stove.

“Make yourself at home,” he tells Kageyama, who’s still hovering awkwardly by the entrance. “You can turn on the kotatsu, the TV remote is on the coffee table, I think. Do you want some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Kageyama rasps as he settles himself beneath the heating table and reaches for the remote.

Akaashi goes to fetch some tissues and a wastebasket, because at the rate they’re sneezing, they’ll probably both fill it up within the hour. Kageyama thanks him in that awkward, stilted way of his, and Akaashi responds in his own quiet way, coughing in the crook of his sleeve. Even if he feels like his entire body is made of lead, Akaashi has a guest over, and he wants to remain a good host no matter the circumstances.

When their meal dings ready, quick and easy, Akaashi brings it over and sets it on the kotatsu before he burrows himself beneath it and across Kageyama, heaving a quiet breath of relief. The two of them give their thanks before digging in, if only half-heartedly for Akaashi after the first few bites. Kageyama on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have an upset stomach, easily eating spoonful after spoonful of soup. Akaashi turns to the TV. Kageyama seems to have put it on the sports channel; predictably, there’s a volleyball match going on screen.

“Do you still play volleyball?” Kageyama’s voice rasps in front of him, and Akaashi tears his eyes away to look at him. Kageyama looks a little uncomfortable, but his eyes are curious and intense, set on Akaashi (even if they’re also a little glazed over from the haze of illness).

“Once in a while. I’m not part of a team anymore, but I’ll play with Bokuto and Kuroo at the gym.” More often than not they coerce him into one of their shenanigans, but Akaashi’s gotten used to handling those by now.

Kageyama hums. “Setter?” he ventures, and Akaashi nods.

“What about you?” he prompts, and Kageyama gives him a confused look. “You’re still a setter, too?”

“Oh,” and Kageyama noisily slurps on a noodle before continuing, “yeah.”

“Did, ah… is Hinata-kun joining you here next year?”

Kageyama looks away, chews once. “Hinata’s staying in Miyagi; he's joining the volleyball team at the local university.” There's something in his eyes that tell Akaashi Kageyama's still unused to the idea, him and his decoy being on opposing teams. It's a little odd for Akaashi himself; he can't picture one without the other on the court, and their freak quick is now apparently no more.

But when Kageyama looks to him again, there’s that glimmer of intent in his eyes, and it matches his voice when he tells Akaashi, “He told me he's going to train just as hard as if he'd been accepted to Tokyo, and that he'd meet me on the national team in a few years." There's a sharp grin, telling Akaashi  _I'm not backing down_.

Akaashi’s always wished he could have the conviction Kageyama and Hinata (and the whole of Karasuno, for that matter) seem to have in terms of volleyball, but Akaashi also knows he’s a realist; while he’s good as a setter, he’s nowhere near Kageyama’s skill level. But it’s also something he doesn’t mind much. He’s happy with the way things are now, playing volleyball with his friends as a hobby, when he can still feel the rush of sending tosses that end in powerful spikes to Bokuto. As long as that rush doesn’t leave, it doesn’t matter whether Akaashi plays volleyball competitively or not.

He’s brought out of his thoughts when he hears Kageyama startle, spoon clinking against his empty bowl before he can realise he’s finished it all. Akaashi smiles in amusement.

“There’s a little bit of soup left on the stove,” he says, and Kageyama colours. “Would you like the rest? I won’t eat it.” His stomach will probably regret it tomorrow morning, when he’ll feel a bit better, but he’s still too queasy to eat anything more right now.

“Yes. Please.”

It’s nearing nine ‘o clock when they finish, Kageyama near drooping on the table and Akaashi nodding on and off. They’ve finished the match on TV, and talked some more, filling up the wastebasket (like Akaashi had presumed) and playing cards. They had to stop after a while, however, when they’d gotten headaches from it all.

Kageyama looks alarmed when he takes note of the time, and trips on his own feet trying to get to the door.

“Just stay over,” Akaashi had said, and added before Kageyama could protest any further, “it’s pitch black outside, and you’re going to get lost again. I don’t want to go out again either to give you directions. I can roll out a futon for you.”

“But—”

“It’s no trouble. We’re both sick, so it’s not like we’ll catch anything from each other, and if you go out you’ll worsen it.”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything after that, and Akaashi feels a twinge of satisfaction, like he’s won the argument. They end up watching some more TV, the both feeling too groggy to move any more, and soon enough they're both nodding off, conked out and drooling over Akaashi's carpet as they snore. When they wake up the next morning, sore and still a little sick, it's not as uncomfortable as Akaashi would have made it out to be between the two of them.

And if Kageyama stays a little longer and flusters about repaying Akaashi for his hospitality (still sneezing all the while), Akaashi doesn’t say anything about it, simply smiling and handing him over another cup of warm tea his way.


	13. the twelve days of christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to give you the twelve days of christmas buT YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOURE ALLERGIC TO FUCKING BIRDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is super silly but i thought bokuto would def do something like this and also im a sucker for the hc that akaashi falls for his loony ideas no matter what

_Brokuto [13:21]: wwys if i told u i wanted 2giv akaashi the 12days of xmas???????_

_Kubro [13:23]: Do you mean what I thnk you mean_

_Brokuto [13:23]: like i give him a partridge one day then two doves etc_

_Brokuto [13:24]: but im not giving him the ppl part of the song JUST THE BIRDS_

_Brokuto [13:24]: im gonna need yr help 2get the birds tho so can u help me???_

_Kubro [13:25]: Im your partner in crime at your service. Where do we start?_

_Brokuto [13:27]: <3333_

\---

When Bokuto rounds the corner of his street to greet Akaashi with a kiss Monday morning, he’s met with a sneeze instead.

“Akaashi! Are you getting sick?”

Akaashi sniffs and rubs at his nose.

“Sorry, Bokuto-san. No, I don’t think so, I feel fine; something might have just tickled my nose.”

“Oh. Okay!” Bokuto leans forward again to plant a smooch right on Akaashi’s lips, and his boyfriend answers in kind, cupping his face. “As long as I get to keep kissing you!”

“Mm.” Akaashi smiles and pecks him once more before letting go to grab his hand, linking their fingers together. Bokuto swings their hands merrily between them as they walk to school.

“By the way, Akaashi,” he starts, and Akaashi hums questioningly, “I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“Do you? What for?”

“Christmas, of course! It’s a big present, though, so I can’t give it to you all at once!”

Akaashi turns to him, raising an eyebrow. Bokuto grins in answer, thinking back to the idea he’d relayed to Kuroo this weekend and the bird he’d left at home to place on Akaashi’s porch later today, part one of a six day project. It’s a cute little thing, and Bokuto almost doesn’t want to part with it. Almost.

“That big?”

“Yup! Say, Akaashi, are you getting _me_ something for the holidays?”

“Yes.” Bokuto squawks in delight. “But it’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait until the 25th.” Bokuto deflates.

“What! Ak _aashiii_ , you know I can’t do surprises! I need to know what it is now!”

His boyfriend gives him a flat look.

“You just said _your_ present was a surprise; isn’t that a little hypocritical of you, Bokuto-san?” and Bokuto pouts, because Akaashi’s got him there, but _still_. He’s going to end up biting his thumbnail raw trying to figure out what Akaashi could have possibly given him. Whatever it is, he’s sure he’ll love it. He loves anything Akaashi gives him.

Bokuto leans sideways, placing his head on Akaashi’s shoulder and huffing out a sigh. Akaashi sneezes again, and frowns. Bokuto yelps.

“Akaashi! Are you sure you’re not getting sick?!”

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san.”

\---

On Tuesday afternoon, Bokuto skips over to after-school practice, clicking his phone shut and slipping it in his pocket. He’s just talked to Kuroo; phase two of Akaashi’s _amazing_ Christmas present is a go, Kuroo assuring him that the doves were in Akaashi’s gym locker (and had only been placed there _recently_ , he’d stressed, relieving Bokuto).

Bokuto’s not sure how Kuroo does it, but he’s not about to question it if it works. In fact, it makes him kind of proud, knowing his best friend is a man of many talents; a jack-of-all-trades, if you will.

When he bounds in the changing room, dropping his bag on one of the benches, it’s to see the rest of the third years and Akaashi, looking nonplussed as the latter holds up a cage with two turtle doves, cooing softly.

“What’s going on?” Bokuto asks, far too keenly. Akaashi slides his eyes over to him, but keeps quiet.

“Akaashi found these birds in his locker while changing!” Komi answers. “Wonder who put them in there?”

“That’s weird,” Bokuto says, loudly. He doesn’t notice the way the rest of his teammates sharpen their gaze towards him, or the way Akaashi nods resolutely towards his other upperclassmen in a silent conversation. “They’re pretty cute, though, aren’t they?”

He bounces over to the birds, bending down to peer closer and imitating their peeps. After a while, he slides a hesitant gaze up to Akaashi. Behind them, Akinori bumps his elbow into Sarukui’s sides, hissing.

“Stop smiling!”

“I’m not smiling!”

Akaashi still hasn’t said anything.

“… Don’t you think they’re cute? Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, feeling a little less sure of himself now. Does Akaashi not like birds? Shoot, maybe he should have investigated, but he remembers watching an owl documentary with him one night and Akaashi had seemed really into it—

Akaashi coughs, and brings a hand up to scratch at his throat.

“They’re very cute, Bokuto-san.”

He places the birds on one of the benches and starts to change. Bokuto beams, and straightens up, relieved.

\---

After the second day, things start getting a little trickier. Bokuto still wants his gifts to be a surprise, but when you’re toddling three hens around it’s hard to stay subtle.

Luckily, Kuroo is here to help him, and they set up one bird near Akaashi’s locker, one on his classroom desk, and the last in the gym’s changing room, again. Bokuto wishes he could see Akaashi’s reactions when his boyfriend sees the birds waiting for him, but they’re a year apart and Bokuto can’t make it to practice today, having gotten a less than stellar grade on one of his recent tests.

Akaashi had told him he thought the doves were cute yesterday, though. Bokuto hopes he thinks the other birds are as well; he knows _he_ does.

Did Akaashi name them? If he did, Bokuto wonders what sort of names they were; one of the chickens today looked like a Lucy, but he can’t say for the rest of them. Did Akaashi even keep the birds? Bokuto thinks worriedly. He hopes he did; he doesn’t know what Akaashi would have done with them otherwise.

Bokuto is startled out of his thoughts when he hears panicked clucking outside of class, in the hallways. He abruptly stands up, and before his teacher can scold him for disrupting class, Bokuto storms out of the room, eyes wide.

He spends the next fifteen minutes on a wild chicken run.

\---

When Bokuto invites Akaashi over after school on Thursday, Akaashi readily agrees.

It surprises Bokuto, a little, because Akaashi’s not the type to be so enthusiastic about things, but who is Bokuto to complain? He gets to spend more time with Akaashi, so he’s all for it.

He gets a little more concerned, however, when he sees the state Akaashi’s in that morning.

He won’t stop coughing, and when Bokuto comes closer, he sneezes four times in succession. Bokuto hovers around, worried.

“Akaashi! I knew it, you _are_ coming down with something! You should go back home to rest! I’ll grab your homework for you!”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi wheezes, coughing again, “Bokuto-san. I feel all right. I was fine yesterday. We’re not in the same class either; I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

Bokuto can’t dispute that, since Akaashi _had_ seemed fine during both morning and afternoon practice (and especially late after, when he'd pulled Bokuto against the gym lockers for a heated makeout session) the other days. But that was yesterday, and today Akaashi looks sickly; there’s dark bags settled under watering eyes, and Akaashi keeps scratching at his throat, the skin red and itchy.

“You look sick today, though! If you take one day off, it won’t hurt you! You can come over another day!”

Akaashi sighs.

“Bokuto-san, I’m fine. It’ll go away later today, so I can still come over after school. Don’t worry about me.”

He starts walking, following the street leading to their school, and Bokuto knows Akaashi is nothing if not stubborn. He drops the subject and follows, pouting and mumbling.

“But I’m your boyfriend; it’s my job to worry about you…”

\---

By the sixth day, Bokuto is alarmed.

Akaashi seems to fluctuate between healthiness and sickly every morning, coughing and wheezing and blowing out his nose every few minutes. He goes through a pack of throat lozenges within the hour (and that’s not so bad, when Bokuto can taste the cooling mint of them against Akaashi’s lips), and keeps scratching at his throat (and sometimes his forearms), but whenever Bokuto asks, Akaashi brushes him off and insists he’s fine.

And he is, seemingly fit as a fiddle the next time Bokuto sees him at lunch hour. It’s messing with Bokuto’s mind, and he can’t make any sense of it.

It’s a Saturday, so it’s a half-day with no afternoon practice, and Akaashi had told Bokuto not to wait up for him today. As soon as the bell rings Bokuto rushes out, pulling out his phone. He needs a professional’s opinion.

_“Yo.”_ Kuroo’s voice greets him on the other line. It sounds like he’s already home, the lucky bastard; Bokuto can hear the drone of the TV and the crinkle of chips in the background. _“What’s up_?”

“I need your help,” Bokuto says, quickly. “It’s Akaashi.”

_“What? What about Akaashi? Is there a problem with the birds today?_ ” Some rustling, the creak of a couch as Kuroo gets up. _“They didn’t escape like the chickens did, did they?”_

“No, no,” Bokuto assures him, crossing the busy street before him all the while. “The birds are fine, they’re waiting for him at his front porch. It’s _Akaashi_. I don’t get it. He keeps getting sick, and then not?”

_“… What do you mean?”_

“Like…” Bokuto chews his lip. “It’s like he has a cold? He keeps sneezing and everything, and his nose is always stuffy and I think he has a sore throat? But then it goes away by the afternoon and it’s not contagious or anything because we still kiss and stuff and _I’m_ not sick so I don’t understand what’s going on and _please help me Kuroo I have no idea what to do_.”

Bokuto huffs when he finishes, waiting for his friend to answer. The line crackles.

Silence on the other end.

“…Kuroo?”

_“… Oh my god.”_

“What?”

_“Oh my god,_ ” Kuroo repeats, and he sounds disbelieving. _“Bokuto. Akaashi’s_ allergic _to birds.”_

Bokuto freezes.

“What.”

_“Akaashi is allergic to birds.”_ Kuroo barks out a laugh. _“Think about it. You’ve been sending him all these birds all of a sudden, and he starts getting sick out of nowhere? It’s the birds, Bokuto.”_

“WHAT.”

If Bokuto thinks about it, it all clicks into place. He’d given Akaashi his first bird on that Monday morning, and Akaashi had started reacting to it right after, when Bokuto had met him on the sidewalk. It’s why he’d seemingly looked fine as the hours had gone by, only to come back the next day in the same sickly state.

Bokuto’s the reason Akaashi was getting allergic and sick.

Bokuto’s heart sinks.

“Kuroo, I gotta go,” he says, and before Kuroo can answer him, Bokuto ends the call and shoves his phone in his pocket, and starts to run.

Akaashi may have left earlier than him, but Bokuto can maybe reach his boyfriend’s house before he can if he keeps up his pace. He thinks about the six geese waiting for Akaashi at his front door, and now that he thinks about it, this was all a really awful idea, wasn’t it? Who does that, giving their significant other _geese_ for the holidays? He hadn’t even thought of the consequences; never mind the fact that Akaahi’s apparently _allergic_ to birds (and _why_ hadn’t he thought of asking about that before), what’s Akaashi going to do with all of them, anyhow?

Bokuto’s shoulders droop at the thought, and he feels himself run a little slower. He can’t believe he’d been so uncaring, when Akaashi had been so polite about it all and telling him the birds were nice, he’s really undeserving of Akaashi, isn’t he, not taking him into consideration.

If there’s one thing he can do however, it’s to make amends to him, even if they are slight. Bokuto picks up his pace once more, intent on getting to Akaashi’s house before he does to get those geese out of there.

He’s one step too late. When Bokuto reaches the corner of the street, he spots Akaashi already at the front of his house, standing before the birds on his porch. He looks a little hesitant, hovering by, but the geese stay where they’re attached, leisurely flapping their wings around and quacking once in a while. Bokuto sprints faster.

“Akaa _aaashiiii_!” he yells, startling both his boyfriend and the birds, who ruffle up angrily.

“Bokuto-san?!”

Bokuto ambles up the steps and stops right in front of Akaashi, panting with his hands on his knees.

“Akaashi, I’m,” he gulps, “so, sorry; I, didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t, know, you were allergic to, birds, and,” he looks up, finally catching his breath, “why didn’t you tell me?!”

Akaashi purses his lips, and sneezes. Bokuto reaches a hand out, alarmed, but Akaashi waves him off.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. We can talk about this inside? I’d rather not next to the geese,” he gestures to their feathered company. Bokuto wants to facepalm for his thoughtlessness.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s do that!”

They’re cozied up next to each other on the couch a few minutes later, Akaashi propping his legs up over Bokuto’s and leaning against his side. He’s swallowed another three cough drops and has stopped his coughing fit by now, and Bokuto feels guilt seep in again at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, dejected and looking away, “I didn’t think about this whole thing, I just thought giving you birds after the Christmas song would be cool! You know? But I ended up making you sick instead, oh my god I suck—”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi stops him, bringing his hands up to squish Bokuto’s cheeks and make him meet his eyes. They’re still a little red around the edges, but they’re firm when Akaashi tells him, “Bokuto-san, stop guilt tripping yourself. I'm only a little allergic, you couldn’t have known—”

“But I should have!” Bokuto cuts in, upset. “What kind of boyfriend am I if I give you the one thing I shouldn’t have for the holidays?!”

“A good one.” Akaashi smiles as Bokuto gapes. “It’s the thought that counts. And the thought was cute.” Wait, is that pink creeping up Akaashi’s cheeks Bokuto sees? “I wasn’t lying when I said the birds were cute. I really do like them. It’s a shame we have to give them away, though,” he sighs.

Bokuto realises there aren’t any other birds in sight, the house chirp-free and quiet save for the soft breaths shared between the two of them.

“What did you do with them? And how did you know I was giving you the birds, anywho?”

“My parents bring them to the animal shelter or the pet shop every night,” Akaashi answers, as patient as ever. “They were a little worried at first,” and Bokuto wilts a little; he hadn't thought of Akaashi's parents and their opinion on all of this either, “but now they’re just really amused by it. Also, it was kind of obvious, Bokuto-san. You weren't very subtle about it when I got the doves in the locker room.”

Bokuto only pouts in answer. Akaashi laughs and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. Bokuto has to go a little cross-eyed to look at Akaashi properly.

“It was a lovely present, Bokuto-san. Thank you very much.”

Akaashi, in a rare moment of affection, rubs his nose against Bokuto’s before he kisses him softly, lips warm. When they break apart, Bokuto blinks a few times. There’s pink on Akaashi’s cheeks and a shine to his mouth, lips red and soft.

Bokuto grins, and preens. He feels a lot better now, and knowing that in the end his boyfriend is pleased with his gift makes him happy (even if it did end with Akaashi having a few sneezes more and a little less birds). He leans forward, diving back for another kiss.

“So what’s _my_ present, Akaashi?”

Akaashi presses the flat of his palm against Bokuto’s face before he can do anything.

“It’s still not the 25th, Bokuto-san.”

“Aka _ashii!!_ ”


	14. there's no place like home for the holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we're the only ones on campus who didn't go home for christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i actually have one more chapter to post after this one; i hope the spam doesn't bother anyone too much!

Campus is quiet. Eerily so, with the glow of lamplights shining orange lights against the dark of the ground, soft foot tracks left on the snow by people who are long gone by now. There’s no chitter-chatter drifting in the air, no little and big groups of friends loitering about or heading to class. There’s no enthusiastic cheer coming from the bleachers of a friendly sports match, there are no professors to stop students and make small talk over course material, there’s no busy bustling in the noisy food court.

Campus is empty, snowflakes swirling about in the air with the wind to keep them company when everyone else has gone home for the holidays. But that’s all right to Kageyama. It may be empty, but it’s no less full of life when he has Hinata by his side.

He’s as chipper as ever, eyes twinkling in mischief when he tells Kageyama they could do anything they wanted and no one would be the wiser. Kageyama’s weak to that smile and that look Hinata always seems to get whenever he looks at him, something akin to fondness, Kageyama hopes. Whatever it is, it’s warm and inviting, and it never fails to make his heart beat something like _gwah_. So Kageyama follows, Hinata’s hand in his.

Hinata’s enthusiastic as ever, going forth with his own idea with gusto, and Kageyama mostly goes along with it. They take a walk outside, bumping shoulders. It turns into a shoving match, which turns into Kageyama falling in the snow with a bemused look on his face and Hinata laughing merrily. It turns into Hinata jumping down right next to him, yelling about snow angels and snowmen as he waves his arms and legs around again and again. It turns into Hinata blowing him a raspberry when Kageyama tells him his angel looks more like a lopsided circle, with the way Hinata had been a bit too animated.

They leave footprints of their own in the snow, when they amble around, getting into a heated snowball fight, complete with snow forts of their own and snowflakes in their hair and on the tip of their noses. Hinata manages to sneak around and dump a fistful of snow down Kageyama’s neck, running away laughing, and Kageyama retaliates by catching up to him and shoving his freezing hands underneath Hinata’s coat and sweater.

Hinata’s the one suggest they share mittens, when they realise Kageyama has none and they have to trek back inside, one for each of them and the other hand warm in the other’s coat pocket. They make a silly pair, with Hinata having to bend his elbow to fit his hand in Kageyama’s pocket and Kageyama reaching down for Hinata’s, but they make it work, cheeks red with more than just the cold.

They reach the campus library, even quieter than it usually is, and Hinata shouts into the air, laughs at the echo bouncing against the walls while Kageyama’s angry yells his way join in the mix. There’s no one to tell them to keep it down, and Hinata tugs Kageyama down rows and rows of books, his own steps quick and lithe and Kageyama’s louder and clumsier. There’s the smell of old, papery novels and encyclopaedias surrounding them when Hinata stops them right in the heart of the library.

Kageyama knows what that means, the way Hinata’s darken a tad bit, then, and he’s only too happy to follow when Hinata pulls him by the lapels of his coat to press himself flush between the bookshelf and Kageyama. And if Hinata brings his arms up to wrap around Kageyama’s shoulders and pull him down for a kiss or two, and if Kageyama complies all too eagerly, feeling his ears go red, well, no one’s here to stop them.

These are all Hinata’s doing, Kageyama thinks later that night, as he lazily draws swirls and patterns over a sleeping Hinata’s back in their bed. It’s all his ideas, doing spontaneous things like these and dragging Kageyama along for the ride. But if his ideas are all as great as today's, then Kageyama doesn’t mind one bit, not going home for the holidays. Home is where Hinata is, after all.


	15. rudolph the red-nosed reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our floor’s having a christmas movie marathon and we’re watching rudolph right now and- wait are you crying

“Tsukki! Our residence is having a Christmas movie marathon, come join us!”

Tsukishima slowly turns around in his swiveling chair, fixing Yamaguchi with a quiet stare.

“Tsukkkii,” Yamaguchi whines from where he stands in the doorway of Tsukishima’s room, “it’ll be fun! We get to watch fun movies with other people and eat junk food. What more could you want?”

Tsukishima presses his lips into a thin line, frowning.

“You mean we’ll get to watch a movie we won’t hear over the ruckus everyone will be making – people I don’t even know – and we’ll be sitting on either couches filled with chip crumbs or the cold, hard, floor. No thank you.”

Tsukishima is about to lift his headphones back over his ears and turn to his essay he still has to finish for next week, but Yamaguchi marches over, turning him around again. Tsukishima is a little stunned, and he peers up at his friend, squinting lightly in question. Yamaguchi swallows, but there’s that determined look he gets when he’s sure of something and won’t back down, and Tsukishima internally sighs.

“This is how you’ll actually get to _know_ the people in our res. Just, come down for a little bit with me? You can leave if you really don’t like it,” and Yamaguchi backs away, his previous flame dwindling as he fiddles with his hands. “A-and I’m a little shy, going in alone, but I really do want to join everybody else and meet new people, so I thought if you were there with me it would be better?”

Tsukishima narrows his eyes. Yamaguchi’s being unfair and he knows it, playing his cards right and pushing Tsukki’s buttons just right so he can’t refuse him. That’s to be expected, though, when they’ve been friends for over a decade; after all, Tsukishima knows just what makes Yamaguchi tick in return.

Tsukishima sighs, pushing up his glasses. He doesn’t really feel like looking at his essay for the moment anyway.

“Fine. I’ll come. But only for one movie.”

Yamaguchi brightens instantly.

“Thanks, Tsukki!”

\---

Tsukishima kind of regrets his decision.

When they reach the ground floor of their residence, where the common room lies, it’s packed with other students, and nearly all the couches are already occupied. Someone with silvery, wispy hair ambles over to make conversation with Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima thinks he recognizes him as their university’s volleyball setter.

So he’s left alone, and soon enough he’s accosted by two other people, both with wild-looking hair and equally lecherous grins as they wrap their arms around his shoulders and introduce themselves. He (unfortunately) manages to get their names—Kuroo and Bokuto—before he ducks away quietly and walks over to one of the only empty couches left. He has a feeling he’s going to see more of those two in the future, now that he’s apparently caught their eye. Tsukishima groans.

He sits himself at the far end of the couch he’d picked, taking out his phone and scrolling through some wikipedia article while he waits for whoever’s in charge to put in the movie. Once in a while he’ll catch something out of the corner of his eye—some shouting or flexing match between two baldies, or a little guy with spiky hair trying to play ‘the floor is lava’ while a taller, burlier man frets behind him nervously—and he clucks his tongue in annoyance. He really hopes things will quiet down once the movie starts.

Amidst the semi-chaos surrounding him, Tsukishima hears someone clear their throat in front of him. When he lifts his eyes to see who’s calling for his attention, it’s to find another student before him, arms crossed down at her front and biting her lip nervously.

“Is, um…” she starts, looking this way and that, “is this seat taken?” she points to the spot next to Tsukishima’s seat.

Tsukishima looks around; he'd been expecting Yamaguchi to take that spot, but he finds him sitting over comfortably with other people a couch away, making shy conversation with them. Guess not.

“Go ahead,” he says quietly, nodding, and the girl gives him a small smile, plopping herself right next to Tsukishima.

“Thank you!”

“Mm.”

“I’m, I’m Yachi Hitoka, by the way.”

“Tsukishima Kei.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“Mm.”

Tsukishima’s never been good at conversing with others, and he goes back to his phone when it seems the girl—Yachi Hitoka—doesn’t have anything more to say.

She does, though.

“What are you looking at?” Tsukishima side-eyes her, thumb hovering over his phone screen, and the girl backpedals. “Ah! I mean, you don’t have to tell me, I was just curious. But I guess that was probably rude of me…”

Tsukishima purses his lips. “Just reading.”

Yachi smiles, looking relieved that she hasn’t been shut out yet. “What about? I love reading.”

“It’s not a novel,” Tsukishima says. “I’m just reading up on… dinosaurs.” It sounds kind of lame when he thinks about it, but she’d asked, and Tsukishima had answered. He quickly goes back to his phone.

“Dinosaurs are pretty cool!” the girl amends, and Tsukishima once again tears his gaze away from his phone to stare at her. Yachi colours. “I-I don’t mean that in a condescending way, of course! They really are! Are you studying paleontology or something like that?”

“Or something,” Tsukishima amends. “Vertebrate paleontology.”

“Wow. So you’re really smart, aren’t you?” The girl shifts in her spot, tucking her legs underneath her before she continues. “I’m in my first year of literature and English here. It’s! It’s not as impressive as paleontology, but I still like it a lot.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “You can’t compare my field with yours. They’re completely different from each other, and they’re both equally impressive in their own rights.”

“Oh,” Yachi hums, eyes wide. “I never thought about it like that. Sciences just always seem so much better to humanities, is what I’ve been told.”

“Sciences are there to understand the world. Humanities are there to understand society,” Tsukishima mumbles. “We can’t function without understanding our own foundation and history. They’re just as important; just study what you like.” He likes to think it’s a simple concept; he’s not studying what he is now because the field is ‘better’; he just wants to study wildlife.

Yachi brings a hand to cover her mouth, hiding a smile. “That was very eloquent of you.”

Tsukishima narrows his eyes. Is she teasing him?

Before he can retort something, someone at the front of the room claps their hands loudly, gaining the attention of everyone else. The room falls into a semi-hush, and Tsukishima is a little stunned that he’d managed to tune out the noise up till now. Large groups of people usually bothered him, but his conversation with Yachi had made him forget about everyone else for a little while.

“All right, everyone!” the man – Sawamura Daichi, Tsukishima recalls, he’s in his organic chemistry class – says, clapping his hands once more for good measure. “Seat up, the movie’s about to start soon. We’re starting with Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.”

There’s a great cheer in the living room, and some other students come bounding in, distributing bags of gummies and popcorn. Tsukishima sighs, propping his elbow on the couch’s armchair and resting his head in his hand. He’s not sure why he’s still here, when Yamaguchi seems comfortable where he is, conversing quietly with new friends and not needing him for emotional support _at all_ , the lying bugger.

Still, he’d promised _one_ movie to Yamaguchi. After that, he’s out.

\---

Sometime in the middle of movie, someone thrusts a bowl of popcorn in Tsukishima’s hands, and he’s left dealing with grabby hands for the next few minutes. The bowl empties quickly, and Tsukishima is about to set it down on the floor, when he feels a pair of smaller, softer hands grab it.

“I’ll fill it up,” Yachi’s voice whispers to him, and it sounds a bit brittle to Tsukishima’s ears. He raises an eyebrow in question, but it’s hard to see in the dark of the room when they’re sitting at the back and the glow of the TV is too far to reach them.

He shrugs and lets go, and Yachi quickly pads out of the room, bowl in hands. Tsukishima, bored out of his mind, slides his eyes back to the screen and yawns. He feels himself nod on and off, and soon enough his eyes slip shut. Sometime in between his dozing, he feels the couch dip next to him, signaling Yachi's return.

He’s startled out of his light nap when he hears quiet sniffles next to him a few minutes later.

Tsukishima blinks a few times, adjusting to the dark once more and trying to orientate himself. He can’t find the source of the sniffling at first, and everyone’s eyes seem to be glued to the screen at the front of the room, quiet save for a few whispers and muted giggles punctuating the air and the occasional munching on food.

When he realises the weeping is coming from his side, Tsukishima stiffens.

He slides his eyes over to his right, and there Yachi is, loose fist rubbing at her eyes and biting her bottom lip in a tremble. Her nose is red and she keeps scrunching it with every sniffle, eyes wet but set on not shedding any tears.

Tsukishima panics a bit. He is not equipped to deal with emotions. Not his own, especially not other’s.

“Are… are you ok?” he whispers, and Yachi jolts, blinking her tearful eyes his way before rubbing at them with more force, this time.

“I-I’m fine,” she murmurs, voice breathy and croaking, “I’m fine, it’s just,” a tremulous inhale, “Rudolph!”

Yachi quickly bites her lip after that, hiccupping. Tsukishima has no idea what to do. He’s never had to deal with someone crying over an animated deer’s (admittedly unfortunate) story.

“It’s just,” Yachi continues, undeterred. Tsukishima is at once relieved and alarmed that he doesn’t have to answer her just yet, because he’s not sure what she’s going to say next. “It’s so unfair! Rudolph just wants love and friends, and they're all shunning him for one little thing until it’s useful to them.”

Yachi sniffles again and looks up at Tsukishima, eyes still glistening.

Tsukishima doesn’t think telling her prejudice against people’s appearance is the reality of life will help her situation.

“Can I…” Yachi’s meek voice pipes up, “Can I get a hug? Maybe? If that’s all right with you?”

Tsukishima blinks. What.

“I mean, I know we just met and I’m sorry for asking this I wasn’t planning on crying but I just feel _so bad_ for Rudolph and you seem really nice oh my god I realise this is kind of really weird never mind I’ll—”

She’s whispering all in a rush, and her voice is breaking more and more with every second and Tsukishima does _not_ want this to turn into a full-blown bawling session.

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima quickly says, quiet and stressed, “You can… hug me.”

Yachi stops mid-rant, and it only takes her a fraction of a second to send Tsukishima a grateful look and scuttle closer to his side, wrapping her arms around Tsukishima’s own and burrowing her face against Tsukishima’s shoulder. Tsukishima tries not to stiffen up too much at the contact, and clears his throat.

The proximity is foreign to him, Tsukishima preferring to keep to himself, but he can’t deny that this doesn’t bother him as much as he'd thought it would. Yachi’s not too overbearing, conscious in the way she holds herself against him. It’s as if she knows he’s not familiar with displays of affection, trying to keep her touch light. Or maybe she’s just as embarrassed as Tsukishima feels right now.

It kind of reminds Tsukishima of his friendship with Yamaguchi. They’re both shy but seem to have a determined streak in them, and they’re both kind but seem to be quick to tease others and laugh at themselves. And Tsukishima had grown (fairly) comfortable with them early on.

Huh.

Yachi seems calmer now, and when Tsukishima looks down, she meets his gaze and smiles up at him.

“Thank you, Tsukishima-kun.”

Tsukishima pushes his glasses up, and faces the TV once more.

“Mm.”

\---

When Tsukishima blinks his eyes open, it’s to find the lights in the room on again, people slowly trickling out of the room or cleaning up as the movie marathon appears to be over. Yamaguchi is standing before him and Yachi, snickering in the palm of his hand. Tsukishima scowls when he notices Yachi is still wrapped around his arm like a koala, and he can’t move without waking her up.

“Did you make a new friend, Tsukki? I’m so happy for you!”

He’s never going to hear the end of this.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”


	16. my little drum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i keep calling tech support bc you’re helpful and also your voice is really cute and I’m lonely because my family is doing a separate christmas this year

Hinata’s doing the best he can, clicking away the little pop-up ads that keep appearing on his computer’s screen, but he’s at his wit’s end when another one appear for the _twentieth_ time in under thirty minutes.

“Aaaugh!” he yells, repeatedly pressing his keypad in frustration.

It’s not that they’re doing anything in particular to his laptop, the ads, but they’re extremely annoying and unwarranted, and Hinata wants them _gone_. Now. Unfortunately, he’s not a tech expert, and he’s tried everything he could think of trying to get rid of them.

None of his friends are techies, either – Hinata laughs at the thought of Kageyama tinkering away his problem; the boy can barely open a Web browser without floundering or cursing at his screen. Besides, Kageyama’s not here at the moment, on vacation with his parents somewhere warm and tropical for the week.

Hinata flops on his bed, arms akimbo and legs dangling over the edge of his mattress. What is he to do? He’s pretty sure if he sees one more ad pop up on his screen he’s going to smash it.

There’s a buzzing next to him, and Hinata rolls over to pick up his phone, squinting at the notification.

It’s a snap from Noya, grinning and flashing a victory sign with a snowball fight ensuing between the rest of the former Karasuno team in the background. Hinata feels his mood drop despite himself as he taps out a response. He wishes he were there with the rest of them; instead, he’s stuck in Sendai, alone at university for vacation.

Tech support, he suddenly thinks. They have that here, right? Hinata vaguely remembers seeing a phone number to go with the department on his student guide, during his first week at university.

Hinata shuts off the app and rolls on his back, glancing at the ceiling before he sits up and goes to grab his laptop. He growls when another ad pops up while he searches for the tech support’s number, but he eventually finds it, listening to the ring on the other end of the call as he presses his phone to his ear.

Someone answers at the fifth ring.

“… Hello?”

“Hi! Is this Tokohudai’s tech support?”

“… Yes.”

Hinata waits, but it looks as if the person on the other line isn’t going to say anything more, so he marches on.

“Okay, well I have a problem with my laptop and I’m not sure how to fix it? I keep getting pop-up ads all over my screen and my web browser isn’t even on so I don’t know where they’re coming from,” he whines, getting worked up. “It’s really annoying and I can’t get them to go away!”

The person on the other line hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s anything bad,” they tell him calmly. Their tone is modulated, pleasant and soothing Hinata’s frazzled annoyance. “If it’s just pop-ups, you probably installed adware on your computer by accident.”

“So does that mean I can uninstall it?”

“Yeah. Do you have an antivirus program on your laptop?”

“Um…” Hinata checks, typing. “Yeah! I do.”

“Okay, run a scan with it. Do you know how to do that?”

“Yeah, I think so!” Hinata sticks his tongue out in concentration, clicking away as instructed. “Okay, I think I just did it.”

“All right.” The person continues steadily. “That should have removed the ads.”

Hinata crows delightedly, pumping a fist in the air. “Yes! They were really starting to get on my nerves; I don’t know how I even got them in the first place, you know?” The person makes a noncommittal noise in answer. “Ah well, as long as they’re gone. Hey, what’s your name, by the way? I wanna thank you properly!”

The person seems to hesitate. “I didn’t do that much…”

“No way, you were a really big help! I was starting to freak out here, I thought they’d never ever leave. Here, I’ll give you my name; I’m Hinata Shouyou!”

A pause on the other end. A soft exhale, then,

“Ah, Kozume Kenma.”

“Okay, Kozume—”

“… Um. Kenma is fine.”

“Got it; call me Shouyou then!” Hinata smiles into the receiver. “Thank you, Kenma!”

“Mm.”

They hang up soon after. Hinata drops his phone somewhere on his bed and goes back to his computer, feeling a weight lift when he sees that the ads aren’t reappearing on his screen.

Kozume Kenma, huh?

\---

It’s two days following the first call that Hinata finds himself in another technical bind, feeling his frustration mount as he plugs and unplugs his USB in his computer. It won’t show up no matter what, however. Hinata thinks, as he tries for the nth time, if he sees it fails one more time, he might just yell. Extremely loudly.

At least there’s no else in residence to hear him scream, Hinata thinks dejectedly.

After (impatiently) waiting for all of three minutes, Hinata still doesn’t see the familiar icon that’s supposed to pop at the bottom corner of his screen to tell him his USB is connected. He unplugs it roughly, biting his lip and feeling angry tears rise. He’s got over a thousand music files on there; he absolutely does not want to lose them.

Kenma! Hinata suddenly thinks. Kenma would probably know what to do. He hastily goes for his phone and types in the tech support’s number.

“Hello?” Kenma is just as soft-spoken as the last time, and Hinata already feels a bit better at the reassuring sound of his voice.

“Kenma! It’s Hinata Shouyou; from two days ago?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“I have another problem!” Hinata barges on, walking back and forth in his little room as he talks. “So, I have this USB; and I’ve been using it for a long time, so it’s got all these important files on them, but it suddenly won’t connect on my computer anymore!  And I don’t know what to do, I’ve been trying for _hours_ , you gotta help me, Kenma!”

There’s a small silence after his little spiel, and Hinata can feel Kenma thinking quietly on the other end. Then his voice pipes up, as calm as ever. “Have you tried connecting it to another USB port on your laptop?”

“Yeah, all four of ‘em! None of them seem to work!”

There’s the rustle of clothing, the squeak of a chair as Hinata hears Kenma move around. “All right. Do you have another USB with you?”

Hinata goes to his desk, pulling a drawer open and retrieving two other USBs. “I’ve got two more!”

“Can you try plugging them in your laptop, and tell me if those show up or not?”

Hinata does as he’s told, tapping his feet as he waits to see if Kenma’s suggestion will work or not. It’s quiet for the next few minutes, save for the soft breaths and quiet clicking or typing on the other end of the call.

“… it isn’t working, is it.” Kenma says flatly after a while. Hinata huffs out a groan in frustration.

“No! I can’t see anything showing up.”

“Okay. The problem is either your laptop or your USB ports, then.”

“What! Aw, man…” And to think he’d gotten this computer only a few months ago, too. Hinata pouts.

“If you plug your USB in another laptop, you can probably retrieve your files and send them to your computer,” Kenma adds helpfully.  Hinata can feel himself relax at his constant reassuring voice.

“Okay, I’ll do that. The library is still open during vacation time, right?”

“Mm, I think so.”

“Great!” It’s a hassle, going all the way down there to move his files to his e-mail (which will probably take a while, considering the university’s network service), but it beats losing all of them, Hinata thinks. “Thanks, Kenma! You’re a lifesaver!”

He thinks he hears a fluster in Kenma’s voice when he answers him, but there’s also a content note to it.

“… It’s fine. You’re welcome.”

Hinata beams, even if Kenma can’t see him.

\---

Another week has passed before Hinata calls Kenma again. This time, he can’t seem to connect to his router anymore, even if it had worked just fine minutes ago. Kenma, in that steady way of his, had guided Hinata once more through the whole fixing process when he’d explained the problem to him. And Hinata had once more, thanked him profusely, joyful.

He kind of doesn’t want to end the call this time; he’s feeling particularly lonely this afternoon, and hearing Kenma’s voice lifts his spirits up.

“Say,” he asks, happily bouncing on his bed with his computer in hand, “I know I’m being kind of obvious when I say this, but you’re really good with technology, aren’t you? Were you always this tech-savvy?”

“Not really. I play video games a lot, though, so that’s probably why I’m used to dealing with computers so much…”

Hinata makes an excited noise. “You play video games?! What kind!”

“Um, mostly on consoles, like the PSP. Sometimes on PC. But that’s harder to carry around on the subway when you want to play a game.”

Hinata lets out a surprised laugh. “Kenma, did you just make a joke?” Kenma’s voice colours.

“Mm. I guess so.” Hinata hears him shuffle around, clicking away. There’s sounds akin to boss fighting in the background. Hinata grins.

They stop talking after that, but Hinata doesn’t hang up, nor does Kenma, the both of them over their own computer. Hinata decides to watch a movie, and he can hear Kenma play his video game in the background; it’s as if they were in the same room together, and it makes Hinata smile.

He falls asleep with his phone clutched in his hand.

\---

Hinata starts calling Kenma less out of needing tech support and more for friendly chitchat after that.

He learns a lot of things about him, like how Kenma played volleyball when he was in high school (setter), and how his job in IT is only part-time, so he can pay for his studies (video game programming). They talk more on some days, and on other Kenma prefers to stay quiet; either way, Hinata enjoys these little calls a lot, always giddy when he hears the soft lilt of Kenma’s voice answering him after a few rings.

He starts wondering how Kenma looks, when all he has of him is his voice; when he asks one day, Kenma flusters, so Hinata decides to tell him how he looks himself, enthusiastic and with gusto.

“… technically I’m 164.7 centimetres… but if you round it up it’s 165!” he finishes, bouncing on his seat and munching on the instant ramen he’d gotten for supper. He was starting to get tired of it, after having it over and over for the last two weeks, but the last time he’d gone near the kitchen it had ended in a small fire and a big panic. “I’m still kind of short… but I used to be shorter in high school, so I guess I’m happy about that. So that’s pretty much it about me. Oh, I also get freckles in the summer when I go out in the sun! But, yeah. So what about you? If you want,” he amends.

It’s quiet for a bit, but Kenma’s voice eventually rises, starting hesitant. “I don’t look anything special… My hair’s a bit long, and I’m kind of short, too, but otherwise I’m not that noticeable, I guess.”

“Ah, come on, Kenma, don’t say that! What colour is your hair? Or your eyes?” Hinata prompts. “I can’t picture how you look at all with just those details!”

“… Blonde. I bleach it and I usually keep it in a ponytail now since it gets in the way now. The roots are starting to come out again. And my eyes are, um, hazel.”

Hinata hums, smiling at the image forming in his head. He’d imagined something else at first, but somehow, he can picture it exactly; Kenma’s description matches his voice just so, something quiet but lovely.

Kenma splutters when he tells him just that, and quickly changes the subject. Hinata goes along with it.

\---

Hinata feels particularly sad one afternoon a few days later, having just finished skyping with his family. Natsu is as boisterous as ever (just like him), making funny faces with him on their computer screens, and it had looked like she’d grown a little more since the last time Hinata had seen her. His mother holds the same warmth and loving disposition as always, smiling warm and eyes soft in that expression reserved for her children only.

It had made Hinata’s heart ache something fierce, and he’d hung up soon after, making up excuses about having to fetch laundry or something else. He slumps in his chair.

His mood is darkening at an alarming speed, when his thoughts won’t stop swirling around the thought of seeing them so happy and wishing he could be with his family he hadn’t seen in months. Hinata hates it, feeling like this and he wants it to stop.

He quickly grabs for his phone, punching in the tech support’s number and waiting for Kenma’s soothing voice to cheer him up and erase the nostalgia that’s stubbornly clinging to his insides and clogging his throat.

He instead gets someone else’s lower, smoother baritone over the speaker greeting him.

“Hey! Tokohudai’s tech support, what can I do for you?”

Hinata opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

“You’re not Kenma.”

A pause.

“Uh. No,” the other person laughs, amused. “This is Kuroo. I’m his co-worker. Who’s this?”

“Oh. Um.“ Hinata straightens in his seat, flushes. “I’m Hinata Shouyou!” Kuroo hums, something honeyed coating his next words.

“So _you’re_ Hinata Shouyou. The infamous Hinata Shouyou.” At Hinata’s questioning noise, he elaborates. “You’re all Kenma’s talking about these days. That and video games, of course.” Before Hinata can stammer out a response to that, there’s a sudden noise on the other side, Kenma’s strangled voice piping up.

“Kuro, give me the phone!” Some rustling of clothes, someone bumping against a desk. Then Kuroo’s voice again.

“Sorry about that. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah; you’re the one who keeps calling here, right? Phone’s always busy these days.”

“I didn’t realise!” Hinata near yells into his phone; he’s feeling slightly intimidated by this Kuroo, whoever he may be. He also wonders where Kenma went. “I haven’t been clogging up the line, have I?”

“Nah, no one ever calls, especially during the holidays; shifts get lonely this time of the year, so I’m glad you can keep Kenma company when I’m not working with him.” Hinata catches something protective in his tone, but it’s fleeting and Kuroo quickly returns to his teasing. “It’s a shame though; considering I’ve been friends with Kenma for nearly our entire lives and he’s kind of a hermit,” a muffled protest from Kenma, “I’m a little curious as to who he’s been talking to that’s got him getting out of his shell and all fired up.”

Hinata hears Kenma grumble something like ‘I’m not fired up,’ and Kuroo’s louder ‘you are,’ in response, and Hinata giggles.

“I called because I had some computer troubles at first, but I guess we ended up becoming friends.” Kuroo hums approvingly, and Hinata quietly wonders why this is starting to feel like some kind of interrogatory and he has to look for Kuroo’s approval. “A-anyway, Kenma’s really great!”

“He sure is,” Kuroo grins. “Hey, why don’t you come down and visit? You’re not far from the building, are you?”

“Kuro!”

“Really?!” Hinata shouts, getting up from his seat in an instant. “Can I really? I wouldn’t be bothering?!”

“Why not? I told you, no one ever calls us these days and I have to leave soon anyway; I’m sure Kenma will appreciate the company.”

There’s more rustling sounds, some voices heating up and the clang of the phone against something hard. Then some slight static, and Kenma’s breathless voice.

“Shouyou,” he starts, terse, “you don’t have to—”

“But I want to!” Hinata cuts in, holding his phone tightly against his ear. “We were gonna meet each other in the flesh eventually, wouldn’t we? I want to see you! Don’t you?”

Quiet. And then, Kenma, shyly, “Yeah…”

Hinata smiles. “Okay! I’ll see you in ten minutes, then!”

“Yeah.” The click of a phone as Kenma hangs up.

Hinata’s out the door in less than two.

\---

When Hinata arrives fifteen minutes later (getting himself lost in between campus buildings) at the door with ‘tech support’ plaqued in neat print at the front, cheeks flushed and winter clothes only half put-on, he runs quite literally right into someone, letting out an ‘oof!’ of surprise.

A black mess of hair (messier than his own) and sharp eyes meet his own. Hinata gulps. The person grins.

“… So I’m guessing you’re Hinata Shouyou,” they say. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand for a shake.

Hinata takes it, shaking it impatiently and trying to peek through the open door behind Kuroo. “You too!” He’s giddy all over, bouncing up and down with the knowledge that Kenma is right behind that door and they’re finally going to meet properly after weeks of calls.

Kuroo gives him a sly grin, and sidesteps when they let go of each other’s hand. He pats Hinata’s shoulder a few times.

“Well, he’s all yours, Shrimpy. Have fun, the both of you.” And with that, he walks away.

Hinata pays no mind to the newfound nickname, because his eyes are glued to the person in the room before him.

Kenma’s just as he’d described himself on the phone. He stands at the front of his desk, gripping the back of his swivel chair with both hands as they stand still and quietly take in each other. He’s got his pudding hair wrapped in a low, haphazard bun, pieces of hair framing his lean face in messy wisps, and Hinata can even spot an earring in one of his ears from here, glinting in the light.

His eyes are slanted and sharp, something nervous but pleased in them when they hone in on Hinata. It warms Hinata right up, and he lurches back to life, bounding inside the room with a jump and arms raised high up in excitement.

It’s as if they’re old friends seeing each other after such a long time, and Hinata’s never felt more comfortable with someone else before. His heart warms, and Hinata beams. Kenma shyly smiles back, giving a small wave and shyly tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“Kenma! Hi!”

“… Hey, Shouyou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this was the last chapter! i've had many revelations while writing these little stories:
> 
> 1) I am a slow (sloooow) writer  
> 2) I cannot for the life of me update regularly  
> 3) I had a lot of fun writing these!
> 
> I know I missed nine days in total, but honestly I did a lot better than I thought I would lol ; even though I did have other ideas and pairings in mind for the rest of the chapters i missed... orz
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed reading these; thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, they made me super happy ;_; and happy holidays to you all!


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